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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26687710">Of the demons we make</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Norris/pseuds/Mrs_Norris'>Mrs_Norris</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Boys (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hughie Campbell Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Lamplighter deserved better, Protective Billy Butcher, Protective Starlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:01:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26687710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Norris/pseuds/Mrs_Norris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of S02E06, Hughie is taken hostage by Storm-front, who has plans for bringing Starlight to her knees.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Butcher &amp; Hughie Campbell, Hughie Campbell &amp; The Lamplighter, Hughie Campbell/Starlight | Annie January</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>224</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Kidnapped</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fuck knew they were discreet.<br/>
At least that was what Annie thought, when she embraced Hughie a little too tight.<br/>
-	Owww…<br/>
-	Oh, Sorry.<br/>
She backed off and looked at his face, brushing his hair out of the way beneath the fabric of his oversized hoodie. He looked pale and gaunt-malnourished even. Dark stubble on his cheek in clear contrast to his 4-year-old eyes. She noticed his flinch and her right hand automatically went to the spot in which Hughie was stabbed only a week ago.<br/>
-	'm fine, I'm fine.<br/>
Hughie smiled earnestly and Starlight fell for it. Somehow, his smile was the most convincing of all verdicts. Although his breathing was ragged, still avoiding deep breaths and flaring his nostrils whenever the ice-cold hands in his pockets made contact with the bandages he was wearing under his Billy Joel t-shirt; which happened quite a lot, considering how freezing it was out there. God, He was shivering. Badly.<br/>
As soon as the realization hit, Starlight's eyes glowed the familiar golden glow and she threw her hands to an abandoned metal bowl, which was left unused in the middle of the old junky house that was their Rendezvous.<br/>
-	Here, warm up yourself a little bit.<br/>
She practically dragged him to the handmade torch. Hughie whispered a "thanks" and looked at her; and there was so much longing and so much innocence that Annie had to stop herself from bumping into him again and holding him tight, till the end of times.<br/>
-	Well, what's up?<br/>
-	Except for the mad bald girl who implodes people for kicks? Nothing interesting, really.<br/>
Annie smiled. And this time Hughie watched; for a long time, contently, as if having the time of his life. As if nothing in the world could possibly ruin his relish. Not the constant struggle for his day-to-day survival, not the least appreciated distance from Annie -because Storm-front was bugging her 24/7 and by the way if it wasn't for his own insistence and a bit of a temper tantrum over his being hurt and achy from the car crash, she wouldn't agree to meet him-. Not even the mean comments Butcher made every now and then about how he was a damsel in distress and what butcher called the "bottom" in his relationship with Starlight, could ruin his good mood. Despite losing weight and having some horrifying circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, He looked pretty dope. He didn't even ask if she took care of her new GPS chip that Ashley gave to her after a rough hour of yelling and name-calling and if she'd broken the sim-card. All was well.<br/>
'Was', being the operating word.<br/>
The fire burned hot and Hughie's cheeks were flushed. That reminded her of the ride to the hospital and the pain beneath his closed eyelids as he flinched away from the cold skin of her neck. She tiptoed the few steps between them and stretched herself up to kiss Hughie's blue-tinged lips. She felt his warm breath that smelled like jelly-beans-which was probably what he was on and the reason why he'd lost too much weight from the last time she saw him after getting discharged from the hospital. Hughie leaned in to the kiss.<br/>
And then, It was all over.<br/>
First, she felt the fire burned out. And then came the unmistakable voice of the Vought's number one female idol: Storm-fucking-front herself. That's what Butcher would call her in this circumstance. Scratch that, Butcher would never be that stupid to put Hughie at a risk like that. That's why they had a fight at their rat hole just before Hughie took off with a "I'm not a child" hurling towards the infuriated man. She shouldn't have come. She had to have enough sense to resist his childish pleading. She'd fucked up, and Butcher had just, what, let her? Anger towards herself channeled to the gruff man and Annie mentally cursed him. Fuck you Billy. Fuck you Storm-front. And above all, fuck you Starlight.<br/>
-	Awww, what's that, if not sweet?<br/>
Annie automatically shielded Hughie with her body and tried to keep her face straight when turning to the black-suited woman. Hughie didn’t resist the meager protection Annie's jacket-cladded body gave him, nodding his agreement in waves of shiver that ran through his body.<br/>
-	What do you want, Storm-front?<br/>
Starlight was defiant. Acting as if merely annoyed by the unexpected interruption. Storm-front started laughing. Her hateful voice echoing the walls of their private shag.<br/>
-	Easy, sister. No need to be such a control-freak. I was just 'round the corner, thought I drop by and say hi. Well, Hi.<br/>
Starlight forced a smile, all the while pushing Hughie even more to the shadows at the back of the room. She took his wrist and squeezed her reassurance. Hughie relaxed a bit and released the breath he did not know he was holding.<br/>
-	All right. You said it. Now leave.<br/>
-	Wowww, what's with the rush? Don't want to show the lucky man to Aunt stormy?<br/>
She advanced. And Starlight backed off, dragging Hughie with her palms on his thighs.<br/>
-	Come on! Share with the class, will you?<br/>
Starlight felt desperate. Hughie had a price on his head. There was no way Storm-front would let him off the hook, as much as there was no way in hell that Annie would let her lay a hand on him. She let go of him, allowing the deprivation of her touch to blow at his pallor. Her eyes glowed from anger towards the woman who wasn't stopping in her march.<br/>
And that, was her second big mistake.<br/>
As soon as the room lightened with the beam of her eyes, she felt a sharp pain right over her sternum and she doubled over. She heard Hughie shouting her name. That was wrong. Right? She was the one who was supposed to protect him, not the other way around. Then why was she feeling her eyelids getting heavier and heavier and hearing Hughie's soft words that "it's okay" as bony hands slowed down her fall. She shouted: No! but it came out as a whimper. Nononononononononono, she shouldn't leave him to the nonexistent mercy of that bitch. She should NOT. She tries to hold on to him, to "will" him into not being there; anywhere but there. She cried: Run! But there was nowhere to run. It was right there and then. Where she failed the only person that she loved. It was always going to be him. The fearful rabbit, the fearless lion. One that would never give up on her, the only one. And she had literally lured him to his death; Or worse. The last thing she felt before succumbing into unconsciousness was Hughie's serene whisper: You're my second wind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Alliance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank y'all for your feedbacks. I must say I'm not a native speaker. So I appreciate your excusing me for possible errors. You are such lovely folks:*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She woke up with a groan.<br/>
Her right hand had gone numb from the pressure of her prone body splaying over it for what felt like hours and her chest stung with a bitter ache, crawling all the way up to her dry throat. She made herself to her elbows and knees and examined the surroundings. It took a few seconds of listlessly looking at the shag's interior to remember why she was there. Hughie. It came as a pang of alarm. Their meeting, Hughie's shitty appearance, their kiss, Oh No. No No No she whispered under her breath, full-blown hyperventilation. She brought herself up to her feet and looked for "something", as if she could simply push a button and wake up from this nightmare should she found it. Inhale… Exhale… God, No. She couldn't let herself think of HER, how she held grudge against her from their encounter in her trailer. How she had every reason to want Hughie dead. NoNoNoNoNo. It was too painful to even skim the idea. Pain. Was he suffering right now? She then felt herself obliged to think of the worst. that was her punishment for being so stupid and letting Hughie, sweet innocent Hughie, pay the price.<br/>
That's when she saw it. Thrown under an oily tablecloth which had obscured the sculpture of an ancient table, with only its one corner on display, was Hughie's phone. She picked it up. Its screen was broken as if smashed by a foot, judging by the lines of dust that formed an All-star shoe-print on the blackened device. Smart Hughie. Annie thought. He must have had just enough time to crash the damn thing before Storm-front has time to examine her prey. At least, others were safe. Well, FUCK THEM. Annie sobbed quietly, feeling her lower lip quiver ever so slightly as she cupped her forehead with one dirty hand and willed herself to abandon all hope, stopping herself from feeling anything less than pure animalistic dread, blocking all "what if"s in which Hughie would come back to her. She wouldn't allow herself to be thrown off the game with false hope, only to be rewarded by the cruel fist of the truth. Her eyes burned with anger and she crumbled the walls of their violated Rendezvous down. She had one mission now. And one only: Find the bitch and make her pay for whatever the fuck she did to him. Consequences be damned.<br/>
But first, there was something she had to do. She had to recruit.<br/>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
Billy didn't really have the time to ponder on what Judy had said back in her house. After nearly getting killed by Black Noir and then the Sage Grove, especially the Sage Grove…fuck, that was a close call. Billy brushed his face with a smudged hand and put out a small box from under his makeshift bed. Inside, there was a photo, of a boy in his 9th grade. He was laughing, Lennie. Laughing as if never going to leave that post in behind those hazel eyes. As if he wouldn't ever think of going out with a gun in his hands and his brains splashed on the wall. Billy had wailed on that corpse for long. It was now just a photo. It couldn't have broken loose the hell the way it had in Butcher's nightmarish memories, considering their close call on the way from Sage Grove to the hospital, Billy had found himself entitled a little bit of self-torture.<br/>
"Butcher, Butcher"<br/>
It was MM calling his name. He hid the photo and got out.<br/>
"What's the havoc, MM?"<br/>
He didn't need to wait for an answer, because standing beside MM was Starlight, red-eyed, hair disheveled holding out Hughie's phone in one shaky hand.<br/>
Frenchie cursed: "Merde"<br/>
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
In the days that came, Frenchie would expressively tell the story of how Butcher had attacked a supe bare-handed and stranded them to the closest grimy wall by neck. Annie didn't put up a fight. Just stood there, nonchalant to Butcher's threat. Only gasping when absolutely needed not to suffocate.<br/>
"WHERE-THE-EVERLOVING-FUCK-IS-HE?"<br/>
Butcher mouthed every word with such strong emphasis that his bulldog jaws actually hurt. Annie just said one name, two word and the grip on her neck released. She panted regretfully, having missed the fight where she would've stepped up and bullied the bully. But this time, Butcher had every right to be pissed. She'd give him that.<br/>
Somewhere in the middle of the white noise, MM brought up the million dollar question: "What the fuck do we do now?"<br/>
Billy snapped:<br/>
"That's pretty obvious mate. We're going to fucking take him back.<br/>
"You seeing a red carpet to Vought's building motherfucker?" MM retorted, nearly looking expectant of an answer.<br/>
"Ain't matter. We've got a supe and they've got Hughie. That's more than a fucking fair deal."<br/>
Annie raised her eyebrows in surprise. But not so much. Butcher would gladly hand over Annie even before she'd screw up with something as valuable to him as Hughie's safety, just because he was being a dick. It was no brainer that now, with the only thing, the only one who brought them together, they would be at each others' throat. She tried to reason with the sheer overprotectiveness that emanated from the gruff man. Hughie would surly appreciate his gesture, all the while working on his wooden block will to make him think of other innocents that might come in his way. No. Hughie was not here. Focus Annie. Focus.<br/>
"Butcher, Listen. I'm not going to exchange hostages with Vought. You know well how it would turn out. I'm going on a rampage. I'm going for kill. And Hughie…"<br/>
She choked on her words: "We don't even know if he's even alive now."<br/>
"YOU FUCKING SHUT UP."<br/>
Butcher advanced on her again. This time, Annie reacted before the others. The bunker lit with yellow blaze momentarily and Butcher stopped dead on his track, panting on his fear-stricken anger-tainted congealed spit as he automatically brought up his hands as to shield himself from the assault.<br/>
"I am going to attack her. And YOU are coming with me. I pray to God that it's not too late, but that's not gonna stop me, neither should it stop you. So, stay back! And save your glorious barking for Storm-front! Kapish?" Annie hissed.<br/>
Butcher fumed for a few more seconds before nodding somewhat intangibly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter is from Hughie's POV;)<br/>comments are love&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Interrogation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hughie woke up alone.<br/>
He was lying on his back. that much he could tell. On his back on the cold hard ground, literally and figuratively. His shivering hoodie-cladded torso could testify. It was dark and he couldn't see the walls or if there WERE any. But judging from the stale atmosphere, he could answer "sure as hell" to the latter. He mentally counted: Two feet –although wobbly and heavy and Oh, bent at an awkward angle-, two hands, one –thank God- head. Oh wait, what's with the wetness?<br/>
Shit. Sleek coppery blood smelled its way out of his old wound in copious amount, and then some more. That could explain the shivering and the fact that he could not move without eliciting an excruciating pain in the area as more sutures popped out. He really was fucked. Focus Hughie. What do you see? 'No. ain't wanna see nothing, just lemme fucking sleep' His half-closed eyes insisted.<br/>
"you cunt". Echoed the familiar insult in his ears; from the gruff old man who had saved him too many times, and intended to do so this time, if only through hallucinations of Hughie's own feverish mind. Shit. Actually physically hearing Butcher meant that it was even worse than he thought. Was he bleeding internally as well as externally?<br/>
"Don't be a pussy, kid. Get up"<br/>
Wait…what? Easy, old man. That's not exactly what you should order a wounded, electrocuted… Ouch.<br/>
Hughie remembered. Annie, Annie. He was with Annie and it was all nice and dreamy… until! That explained why his muscles felt funny, as if they were made of jelly. One with strawberry flavor to match his hair shampoo. Annie had said something about his shampoo. She had said something about many things. His head was spinning. Was she all right? Had they captured her too? He tried to get up on his elbows. Starlight needed him. He had to do something. For her. Anything, even as futile as throwing himself at HER, long enough to distract her from Annie. Not surprisingly, he couldn't withstand his muscles contracting like crazy under the weight of his shoulders and crashed occiput-first on his stone-made bed. He groaned. Biceps burning and lungs burning and wound burning and everything feeling as slippery as a fish, suffocating out of the water.<br/>
There was the sound of a door opening, allowing the light to pour into the room. Which was simultaneously good news and bad ne-HOLY FUCK.<br/>
"well well, look what we've got here"<br/>
HOLYFUCKHOLYFUCKHOLYFUCK. It was her. Storm-front, with her smug face and her dark leathery cape, looking down at him. Behind her was Lamplighter-Hughie had seen the photos and according to Frenchie, he recently had redeemed himself by saving their ass at the facility- which meant… Oh, fuck. THE facility.<br/>
"look at you, you pathetic little shit" Storm-front sneered.<br/>
Hughie didn't even try to move. Seriously, what was the point? She either would kill him or torture and then kill him. He just wished that Annie was safe. He looked with glassy catatonic eyes and not much of a resistance as a frosting on top of a cake as Storm-front bent down and looked at him almost affectionately-ALMOST.<br/>
"what should I do with You?"<br/>
Lamplighter was silent the whole time, the only sign of him being "NOT OKAY" with all the ordeal was his stealing his gaze and focusing on a small basin at a far corner of the cell that was cracked in one or two places, which apparently mattered to him a lot, considering the concern he was exhibiting for them. Hughie looked up at the black perpetrator, whose complexion was barely recognizable in the thin ray of light coming from the corridor. He closed his eyes. Ready for a final blow, a surge of white-hot energy or whatever that blows him from the inside out, not that he cared when he was dead. But at least he had imagined himself going out with a little dignity.<br/>
"you don't always get what you want, do ya?" Butcher mocked. Ah shit. Hughie thought. The very last thing I am going to hear is HIS voice? Are you kidding me?<br/>
"look at me" It was Storm-front. So it sure as hell was an order. Hughie opened one eye and then the other; which didn't help seeing any better in the dim light. Storm-front acted on demand. Her eyes shone its glossy black and her mouth quirked in a smirk.<br/>
"Now, let's make this simple. You tell me where your dirty little accomplices are" She craned her head "and I'll make it easier for you".<br/>
Déjà vu. Hughie had seen this very moment even before it ever happening. That's why his gut reflex in the shag was to drop his phone and step on it a few safe times. Lamplighter suddenly looked at him in the eyes and nodded slightly. That –in his fucked up mind- was his way of helping. Giving a fucking benevolent permission to Hughie for betraying his friends, only to shorten his own agony. Fuck you man.<br/>
"Go fuck yourself". That was all he could come up with, considering his mashed brain and the taste of blood slowly rising in his throat. Hell yeah. Internal bleeding it is.<br/>
Storm-front smiled sweetly-if you could call a homicidal Supe "Sweet"- and brought up her hands. Hughie heard Butcher's maniac laughter: "that's my boy" before everything became white.<br/>
Bright blinding fucking white. He could see nothing in or around it. He imagined his eyes had been rolled up to the back of his head and he was staring at the whites of his own eyes. His body spasmed and cracked under Storm-front's invisible hold. Neurons firing haphazardly as if begging to run away from the intrusion. Fight and Flight response, but not so much.<br/>
And holy fuck. The pain.<br/>
It was literally –and it wasn't exaggerating it- as if he was being burned alive. That's what electrocution does to you, He reminded himself. His muscles were contorting in all sorts of unhealthy shapes and his joint were dislocating one by one as if on a queue. Quivery tendons inhaling and exhaling with each circuit, torn with overstimulation. He heard himself scream. Wild, animalistic howl of pain. P-A-I-N. He spelled in his groggy mind, and his nose welcomed the stench of his own skin burning with obvious repulsion, though not daring to give it a cold shoulder, in fear of not being in control of what tissues he would lose next. How charred he would look to the eyes of others as they found his body. Annie would cry over him. As for Butcher… well, he might as well curse him for being a loyal puppy that he is. Fuck him. This was better. This is better, Butcher. You hear me, motherfucker? This time, Billy didn't answer. He didn't sneered or retorted or sounded anything less of an asshole that he was. Hughie concluded that currently being half-cooked probably makes your body less worried about some stupid talking bacteria. Reality was ebbing away by each second. His muscle fibers agreed. His eyes agreed. This was it. No waking up from this. Just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA and then here you are: the eternal nothingness.<br/>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>"Is he dead?" Storm-front asked playfully. Lamplighter sat on his knees and checked for a pulse. Weak, but still there. The kid wasn't looking so bad on the outside, small electrical petechiae and a few burned patches here and there littering his neck up to his jaw was the sole indication of his being any more hurt than passed-out from pain. His complexion was strained, though; dark brows knitted in his uncomfortable slumber. His clothes were somewhat torn, though still hanging loosely on one dislocated shoulder and the other heavily bruised-he could tell from his quick examination- arm.<br/>
"He's alive" Lamplighter rasped.<br/>
"Good" She smiled mischievously "Then we'll start again, wake him up. Make him ready. I'll be back before you can miss me" She flew away.<br/>
Lamplighter counted on three. Then rolled Hughie's body to the side and pulled on his dislocated shoulder hard and fast. Hughie whimpered but didn't wake up; Too exhausted from his ordeal to respond to the newly introduced pain.<br/>
"Ah shit kid. What the fuck did you get yourself into?" Lamplighter whispered more to himself than his unconscious prisoner. "What the actual fuck?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Change of plan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's a small chapter for you amazing folks. It's kinda in continuation of the last one. I just can't stop hurting my boy. I'll repay him, though. I promise^__^</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"How does it feel" Storm-front leaned in and whispered in Hughie's ear. "to know that you'll die foolishly protecting those who left you here, A-lone?"<br/>He was lying on his left flank; the one that wasn't bleeding at the moment. Courtesy of Lamplighter, who had woken him up by an enormous splash of lukewarm water and then apologized sternly. He told him that he had fixed a dislocated shoulder, a few broken ribs and a re-bleeding gut-wound, which of course hadn't stayed that way and was now re-re-re-re-bleeding after a few hours of Storm-front visits. He had just listened then as Lamplighter went on and on and added one abuse to another to the list of injuries he had suffered. Fuck. He felt sick and Lamplighter offered him a bin to hurl into. He then had helped him sit and lean on a dirty wall and had touched his forehead with his cold palm. And God, it was heaven. Hughie remembered himself leaning into the touch and then came Lamplighter's exclamation, too loud, too much like Butcher's voice:<br/>"Fuck, seems like the pills had done you zilch, but don't worry pal. You'll get better."</p><p>Storm-front was doing the touching now. If you could call thrusting her fingers in his gut wound 'Touch'. He squeezed his eyes shut and grinded his teeth. She seemed pretty into this torture bullshit, moaning as her fingers severed Hughie's flesh. Hughie couldn't help crying out and got himself a bloody mouth in reward.<br/>"You fucking bug." Storm-front pulled her fingers out and wiped it with Hughie's torn clothes; avoiding the already blood-soaked areas. "Tell me, Where the fuck is your hideout?"<br/>Hughie spat out blood. His larynx feeling like sandpaper he tried to sound defiant: "No. You'll just have to kill me." He saw in his reclined view as Lamplighter automatically took a step towards him, head shaking up and down-No, more like left and right. He felt his one too many hours abraded left cheek losing contact with the hard stone the floor was –unfortunately- made of, and then smashed back in place. Ahhhh, fuck. His jaw was broken. It was definitely broken. He was seeing stars. Stars… like the sparks Starlight generated. Those that sizzled and burned with her energy. He felt his lips angles coming up despite the hot excruciation radiating from his temple. His provoked face-first crashes tended to recur again and again and again and he felt losing his grip on consciousness. Again. Everything hurt. He wasn't even sure if he was alive anymore. Fuck, he couldn't believe he was that much of a son of a bitch to still be alive. Lamplighter must have done a pretty good job at tinkering him back together after each visit. At least up until now. <br/>Just as he thought that with the next blow his skull would explode grotesquely on the floor of that cold hard cell, Storm-front withdrew. Okay, that's my cue. He thought groggily as he passed out.<br/>"All right, change of plan" She smiled at Lamplighter, who was mortified by the look of pure mischief on her face, as well as the blood pooling from the kid's temple on the background of her greasy hair. <br/>"Start dosing him" She ordered with a revolting smile. <br/>"WHAT?" Lamplighter was incredulous.<br/>"You heard me. Fucking start dosing him with V. We're gonna make a Supe. Isn't that great? Now, chop chop. get to work" She urged him impatiently.  <br/>"But he… he might die"<br/>Storm-front's eyes blazed:<br/>"Do you mind?"<br/>"No! No, of course not!" Lamplighter stuttered.<br/>"Great. It's settled then." She left the cell, her cape flying behind her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Plot-twist, eh?:D Hmmm... let me know If you liked it;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The boys strike back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so excited myself that I can't stop my fingers from typing. Screw the perfectly scheduled updates:))<br/>btw, I think I should warn you about some inappropriate contents? However, If you're here, it means that you have no innocence left to lose:P</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time she left Sage Grove after her "session" with the geeky boy, Hugh Campbell, she had to move out to another trailer. Apparently, Homelander had been tired of waiting for her and her naughty promises and decided to instead make himself entertained with a pile of Storm-front's burning underwear.<br/>
The second time –which was of course on the same day- after her subject lost consciousness and with that all the fun she was having manipulating him and extracting funny noises from his cute little soundbox, she had to hurry and bring Homelander down from the sky above the city and extinguish the storm he had created, only because –as he had put it- clouds felt too much like her tits for him to be able to resist.<br/>
"Okay, I think we should talk about this." She started.<br/>
"About what?" Homelander was nonchalant as he wore his Superhero pants.<br/>
"About you, wreaking havoc whenever you miss me" She flickered his breastplate with one wiggling finger as she whispered lustfully.<br/>
"Why… would you leave at the first place?" Homelander was unimpressed.<br/>
She forced a smile: "all right grump. Wasn't I honest with you? Didn't I tell you my biggest secrets?"<br/>
"A-A" Homelander tutted. "You were honest. But not quite."<br/>
She frowned.<br/>
"You told me your daughter's dead. What you didn't say is where else do you go then? You don't strike me as mourning, talking-to-corpses-type." Homelander grabbed the back of her neck and looked at her in the eyes, jaw twitching with subdued anger.<br/>
"You know what?" Storm-front squirmed in his hold. "It's a surprise. For YOU. I'm working on it. Believe me, you'll love it."<br/>
Homelander hesitated. "Surprise?"<br/>
"Yes" She encouraged, all the while releasing herself from one huge red glove. "All for you. After I'm done, people will bow down with fear whenever they hear your name. Just give me a little time"<br/>
Homelander looked suspicious. But he retreated and weighed her news. Storm-front found this as her cue as she pulled him in a French kiss –which of course he could not resist either- and then left swiftly, lightning bolt levitating her from the ground.<br/>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
"Y'all ain't need to come, ya know?" Butcher stated as he assessed one of Frenchie's RPGs. "Kid's my responsibility. He ain't yours."<br/>
MM just rolled his eyes. Frenchie looked at Kimiko who was signing him a message. She had finally agreed to teach Frenchie her special language and so he was most definitely accurate with his translation:<br/>
"She says Go fuck yourself. Petite Hughie is our friend too." Frenchie shrugged, disclaiming his impression on the message, then added: "She's right. Go fuck yourself."<br/>
Butcher looked at the Asian girl with astound, almost hurt feelings. Then concluded:<br/>
"All right then. What do we have?"<br/>
Starlight explained. "RPGs will hold her. I can help with that too." She looked at Frenchie, who continued elaborating the plan:<br/>
"I did some digging. Liberty used to live in this mansion, outside Pennsylvania. The house is hundreds of years old. Kinda family treasure, one could say. I made some calls and found out that it hasn't been sold out for ages. The family who live there are descendants of the previous owners. Which means…"<br/>
MM completed: "If she has a fucking weakness, it's there."<br/>
Starlight should have been content. If it was any other time, she would be laughing at the loophole they've found. She would have exchanged looks with Hughie and they would smile reassuringly at each other; 'Would' being the operative word. Now, she couldn't afford to be happy even if she chopped that bitch's head off; Not if it had cost Hughie's life.<br/>
Butcher was more practical. More accustomed to loss to know where to smirk his perfectly homicidal smirk despite being neck deep in sheep shit.<br/>
"Sounds like a fucking plan, ye?"<br/>
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
They didn't even need to wield force. The girl who owned the house was as bland as a fucking potato, stupid enough to be welcoming a stab in the back. She lived there with her husband and a 4 year old kid, who was too distracted by his Xylophone to pay any attention to the newcomers; namely Annie and Kimiko, the least threatening looking –though the most dangerous- of the five. Others were guarding the house, waiting for Storm-front's arrival.<br/>
Starlight told the girl, Kate, that she and her friend –who just smiled sweetly without uttering a word the whole time- were reporters who wanted to know more about the Mansion, its antecedent owners and the "Culture" –as Annie kept emphasizing on that word- it brought to the area. Despite her being foolishly trusting, the girl was nice. Annie felt a pang of guilt as she imagined what Hughie would say. He would discourage the fuck out of this plan. He would say that they were just normal civilians, not even hundred percent sure related to Storm-front; and If they weren't, if they summoned her here and she didn't have a fuck to give for her old house's inhabitants, they were dead; The whole family; their child. They had a child, for fuck's sake.<br/>
"But You're not here." Annie answered him in her mind. "And this is how far I would go for you." She had already killed a man to save Hughie only a week ago. She would sure as hell do that again and even then she wouldn't stop.<br/>
"Can I get a selfie?" Starlight smiled sweetly and Kate welcomed it. And here we go. As Kimiko smiled at Kate's fervent blabbering all about the architecture, Starlight readily posted the picture from the three of them on her Instagram. Tagging Storm-front specifically. Hashtag Lovedones. Hashtag OHMYGODTHHISMANSIONISHUGHE. She deliberately added the typo to tip her off even more. Now, they just had to wait.<br/>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
Patience had never been Butcher's strong suit, or even one hung in the closet. He was more than ready to empty all his guns at that cunt's chest. He had tried so hard to keep the gut-wrenching worries at bay. But fuck it, he was terrified. Having no fucking idea where the kid was and how he was doing was bad enough; the dread that filled his heart every time he thought of the things Storm-front could and would do to him was a whole level of torture of its own. Add that to the fact that Hughie wasn't even at 100 percent when he took off their hideout, furious and hurt –both physically and emotionally, no thanks to him- to begin with. It was repeating all over again. A fucking Supe taking a loved one from him. And all he could do was to watch. Not this time, motherfuckers. He gritted his teeth. Not with his canary.<br/>
MM saw her first as she descended on the lawn in front of the house no more than a few miles ahead. He ran at her with a guttural growl. Butcher and Frenchie following suit. By the looks of it, she was taken by surprise. RPGs thrown at her were blown one after another with that much of a force of a slightly intense push. But it bought enough time for Starlight and Kimiko who ran out of the house and attacked her.<br/>
"Where is he?" Starlight demanded as she sent a bolt of white-yellow light at her. Storm-front punched Kimiko out of the way and stood on her feet. Smiling despite the blood pooling around her cracked lips she said:<br/>
"Where's who?"<br/>
This time Butcher answered with a missile that threw her a few feet away.<br/>
"Hugh Campbell. You've met him, haven't ya? Cunt."<br/>
Storm-front laughed. "Aww you funny little bugs. You think you are important, special even. The truth is, you're only good for one thing and that's being crushed under our feet"<br/>
She hadn't really tried to do anything. And sure as hell she hadn't simply taken off. Hope blossomed in Annie's chest and she smiled ever so slightly at Hughie's memory. Look! It worked Hughie. She's here and the family is safe.<br/>
Bullshit. He didn't know any of this. He might as well NEVER know. Annie screamed at herself.<br/>
Storm-front Just laughed for a good 30 seconds, all the while receiving deadly looks from Kimiko, and when she finally got hold of herself, she said:<br/>
"Now, let's do this the civilized way, shall we?"<br/>
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
Hughie opened his eyes slowly. This time, florescent lamps shining their blue light from overhead made him squint and a groan automatically spat out of his mouth.<br/>
"You're awake." It was Lamplighter's voice. That much he could tell. So, he was still at Sage Grove and much to his surprise, still alive. He confirmed with another groan as he tried to sit, but to no avail. Hands came to his assistance and dragged him up to lean on the nearest wall. The same hand offered him a glass of water, which he gulped down like a famined rodent, splashing half of it on his chest.<br/>
"Better?"<br/>
He nodded in response and looked at the retired Supe, up close.<br/>
"Don't you have, like… a full ward of psycho patients to tend to?" His voice came as a croak, despite his attempt on sounding sarcastic.<br/>
Lamplighter retreated. He didn't answer. Instead, handed him over a pair of white-grey suit, much like the ones that the escaped boy had been wearing before causing Hughie a car crash and oh, being killed by Butcher in the process. Speaking of which, he carefully –squinting at the sight- examined his abdomen. He didn't remember being cauterized a second time. Lamplighter must have done it. Hughie protested:<br/>
"You know that she can do a lot more damage to an inconveniently inaccessible wound, right?" However, he took the clothes. His were utterly ruined, soaked in his own sticky blood. A new pair of long-sleeve shirt and pants wasn't exactly what he would ask if he had a say, but it was better than nothing.<br/>
Lamplighter cleared his throat.<br/>
"well, she won't be visiting quite that often from now on."<br/>
Hughie just frowned. Flinching as he tried to push himself upright, feeling each and every ribs he had somewhat alarmingly close to where his throat should have been.<br/>
Lamplighter explained:<br/>
"You're now subject 17. I've brought you your first dose."<br/>
"Wait… WHAT?"<br/>
He must be hallucinating. He looked around for Butcher, or Annie to join the freak-show his mind was hosting. Though, No-one came.<br/>
"I'm sorry for what you're about to go through. It's better though. At least you'll have a chance of survival, however slim that might be" Lamplighter revealed a syringe, glistening blue of Compound V rippling behind the plunger.<br/>
"A- wait, wait wait…" Hughie tried to retreat, but he was already cornered to the wall.<br/>
Lamplighter's hand fell to his side in surrender.<br/>
"Look, kid. I don't wanna hurt you. But this ain't like smuggling Acetaminophen or that kinda shit. She'll want progress, and if she doesn't see it, you're truly fucked. You know what she is capable of."<br/>
Hughie didn't need a reminder. His sore throbbing temple was enough of an evidence. His face was fine, surprisingly. Not a broken nose or a swollen eye, even his jaw didn't hurt that much. But his head was heavy, as if filled by swarf and then put in front of a giant magnet. It was all too confusing. He covered his ears to gain composure. Something was so wrong with this guy. "You all right?" Lamplighter approached. See?<br/>
"Why?" Hughie croaked.<br/>
Lamplighter was taken aback, momentarily neutralized of his weird nurturing deeds.<br/>
"Bitch wanted information. Couldn't force it out from you. So no more than 48 hours after her allegedly valuable hunt, she decided to instead use you as a test subject. You should know, you were there!"<br/>
"No. No" Hughie closed his eyes and hissed. "I mean, what's with you? Why do you care?"<br/>
"Maybe I'm not that much of a monster that you like to think I am." Lamplighter shrugged and took Hughie's arm. He tore the remnants of a bloody sleeve away and looked for a vein. Hughie struggled feebly, easily overpowered by the Supe.<br/>
"Don't make me hurt you." Lamplighter threatened softly.<br/>
Hughie whined, his Adam's apple rising and falling rapidly as he panted:<br/>
"No please don't do this. I can't be a Supe. That's insane! That's… That's… That's impossible. I've killed a Supe. I-I fight Supes… I- "<br/>
"Well, you've dated one." Lamplighter pointed out as he cleansed Hughie's bluish skin with an alcohol swab.<br/>
"That's not… That's different!" Hughie practically screamed as he tried to wiggle his hand from Lamplighter's hold. "Butcher would never trust me again. He- He might as well shoot me on sight. Come on man!" He pleaded. He felt his eyelids already getting heavy, but this shit was serious. He had to stay awake; he had to defend himself with all he had.<br/>
Lamplighter retorted: "You're in much deeper shit now. Your husband's opinion means fuck comparatively speaking."<br/>
"My wha-?" Hughie's head hurt. What was he saying? Was this even real? Or was he still under Storm-front's probing hands, fantasizing freedom, should it be as fucked up as transforming into a Supe. That was stupid, right? Torture-induced-Hallucination-level stupid. His face was on fire. It must have been the infection. Hughie couldn't remember the last time his body wasn't harboring those brain cooking bugs. They were kinda family now; circling in his bloodstream and fucking up his reality.<br/>
He wasn't really aware of his surroundings when Lamplighter stabbed him with the syringe and pushed the plunger in one go. Hughie wanted to look betrayed as he practically hugged his prison guard like a safety tube. But what came out was him murmuring unintelligible pleas in Lamplighter's ear as he dragged them both down and laid down the unconscious boy on the ground; His head tilted to one side as if merely asleep, scrawny limbs sprawling limply on the floor, having lost the fight.<br/>
"I really hope you don't end up in room 55, kid" Lamplighter left the room, unlocking his phone and dialing a number that he had committed to memory a very long time ago.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What do you think? I know, I know. it's like every editor's worst nightmare. but hopefully you'll like it. let me know please?*__*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Last hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back baby! Here's a few gallons of angst to get you through the day.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Let's do this the civilized way, shall we?" Storm-front crossed her arms. "Honestly. I'm flattered. You have no idea how hard I've been looking for you guys." She beckoned the boys. "But that's water under the bridge now. So no need to look so constipated."<br/>
"What did you do to him?" Starlight demanded, all the while keeping her guard up and fueling her powers with the electricity that short-circuited in gigantic chandeliers of the mansion.<br/>
"Oh I think you mean your playtoy; the one with shaggy hair and all" Storm-front smirked. "dead. Crushed the turd's heart in my fist." She brought her right forearm up, cherishing the fantasy of blood pouring from her wrist as if reliving the climax of her baneful memory. "Gosh the noises he made as the light in his eyes went out, I must say, one hell of a turn-on."<br/>
Butcher saw red. No. His brain, his synapses in the very core of who he was, started whining all at once. Hughie couldn't be dead. Sweet awkward kid that he was, he couldn't had just slipped through his gnarled fingers; mirroring painfully his catastrophic failure with Lenny. There were just so many things Butcher had to tell the boy. That he really didn't think he was pathetic, a baby in need of a nanny. He never had. He had to tell the kid that despite his apparent nonchalance, he was always proud of him. Hughie had to know how terrified this old gruff man, namely "the strongest bastard that he knew", was when he saw Black Noir parading over him, all vulnerable and defenseless, inching himself away from the imminent harm. How hard he had fought not to give in to the sweet darkness of oblivion, only for him. To save his Canary. And how utterly desperate he'd felt when he dragged the kid out of the one too many times rolled over van and saw him bleeding all over his geeky clothes.<br/>
He threw himself at the Supe, only to be answered by a shock-wave of lightning bolt. He welcomed it, absorbing every last sparkle of pain impulse as if to cocoon his tormented soul by a well-scarred shell that was his body. He had lost everyone he ever cared for. Lenny, Becca and now Hughie. And the thing that killed him was that he didn't even get to say goodbye. Fuck that. He'd let Hughie walk away while being pissed at him, hadn't even attempted to crack a joke or act like a jerk whom Hughie would want to punch, but end up being fazed by his tendency of thoroughly and unmistakably being a dick.<br/>
He looked at the team. Starlight was frozen, her yellow glimmer crushed at her wobbly feet, She just looked ahead. Past Storm-front, and past the mansion girl who was now standing unsurely at her porch, her child hidden in the folds of her long skirt. As for the others, they were waiting for nothing, bouncing miserable looks at each other. Time squeezed itself out of a clogged hourglass; one sculptured out of their agony.<br/>
And then, in one whoosh of a second, Starlight went back into motion. She was ferocious, sending one after another electrical bolts at the black crow.<br/>
"You fucking bitch." She yelled and the electrical wires in the whole building started firing haphazardly. Chandeliers crashed loudly in numerous unseen halls of the old house and Kate started screaming. Storm-front sent a lightning bolt at Annie, sweeping her off her feet. Now it was Kimiko's turn, who latched herself onto her neck and pulled back her head by hair. Only to be rewarded by an electrical shower. Frenchie and MM fired the RPGs but she deterred them dismissively. Annie attacked her again, this time being thrown even further off the game. Kimiko received another hit and closed her eyes in pain. Frenchie looked at MM and nodded as he fired the last RPG, only to be disintegrated midway in air. Storm-front laughed in repulsive contentment, which of course, didn't last long.<br/>
"well well well, look what I've got, cunt." It was Butcher, who had hauled up the girl's child with one arm around his small chest and held a sharp knife –must have stuffed it in his boot- under the kid's chin. Boy was crying his eyes out, as her mom choked on her sob and looked bewildered at her baby and the maniac who was holding him too uncomfortably tight.<br/>
"what are you doing?" Storm-front asked as if merely curious, leaving her opponents behind as she slowly walked towards the porch.<br/>
"Butcher?"<br/>
Annie warned, glancing back at him with an accusing stare. Not that he cared. Bitch had murdered his son in cold blood. It was only just if he took something in return. Once, he would have second thoughts; once Hughie would remind him of possibility of second thoughts, he would have walked in the way like the way he had when Butcher tried to shoot Kimiko's brother. He would have told him to fuck off and would find another way; one that didn't involve homicide or child-abuse or both. But shit was out of Pandora's box now. This time, Butcher could see nothing but revenge for the very boy who thought him compassion; Much like Lenny, always gentle, always caring for others.<br/>
"You weren't gonna sell us out to Homelander." Butcher sneered, as he pulled the kid up eliciting an ugly scream. "that made me wonder, why the fuck not? Then I looked around and found the answer. Small" He pushed the knife harder to the kid's skin "whining, pooping answer."<br/>
MM looked beyond frustrated:<br/>
"Butcher. That's just a fucking kid."<br/>
Butcher's mind countered silently: "So was Hughie."<br/>
Storm-front nodded:<br/>
"Yes. YES. You know what? Why don't you just put him down and then we all leave, forgetting what happened?"<br/>
"Forgetting what happened?" Butcher huffed. Inching closer to the Supe with bared teeth. "Oh sister, in that case you shouldn't have taken my Canary." Butcher angled his hand for a clear throat cut. Kid screaming inconsolably.<br/>
For a fleeting moment Storm-front looked genuinely sad; Which wasn't something you would see every day, or maybe it was just a thought, a glitch in the brutal reality. She looked at the child longingly and then with a scream threw out her hands at him. Lightning bumped into Butcher's chest and flung him out of the way. The kid fell to the floor, Storm-front's energy fluxing with a blinding brightness through his small body. She didn't stop though. Not until the kid stopped breathing altogether and his mother's wailing burned their ears.<br/>
"I really DID squeeze your favorite pet for information on you guys. If that's any consolation, he remained loyal to you to his very last breath. Anyways, I don't care about you anymore. That's all. Now If you'll excuse me." Storm-front smiled with her hateful imitation of earnestness. "I have a country to save." She hesitated: "and Oh, don't worry about the rest of the family. Just make sure to clean their blood from the walls. You know, it tends to leave stains." She took off on the last word.<br/>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Homelander found Ashley at the conference room, seated on one of the seven chairs at the far end, tangling her hair around one nervous finger.<br/>
"Ashley."<br/>
She bolted upright, as if electrocuted.<br/>
"Yes sir." She put the chair she was nestling on back in place, clearing evidence of her being any less uncomfortable than her job description demanded.<br/>
"Come here." Homelander smiled, which didn't help her ease at all. She waddled towards the Supe with her clipboard tightly held against her chest.<br/>
"I want you to do something for me." He patted her on the shoulder, from which she cringed with obvious anxiety. "Anything." She assured.<br/>
"I want you to track Storm-front for me. Wherever she went in the last month and wherever she's going to go from now on." Homelander stated as if it was his God-given right, for which he hadn't sought before solely out of magnanimity.<br/>
"But Mr. Edgar…" She stuttered.<br/>
"ASHLEY!?" Homelander raised an eyebrow, waiting for the unspoken threat to do the trick.<br/>
"All right, all right." She squeaked.<br/>
"well?" Homelander encouraged, all the while taking a lump of ginger hair in between his glove cladded fingers.<br/>
"I… I… I will send it to your E-mail." Ashley tried to distance himself from the psycho man. He let go of her hair and smiled genuinely.<br/>
"It's nice to see that we understand each-other, isn't it?" Ashley heard the taunt through a flying cape, as he turned around and walked out of the room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What do you think of my attempt on creating suspense. Do you feel suspended?:D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Despair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's another chapter. Grab the tissues;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Grace wasn't sure whether she was dreaming or not. That seemed too much like one of her recurring nightmares.<br/>
Her phone started ringing on her kitchen counter, displaying a name she'd prayed to forget for years. Despite her absolute reluctance, she picked up on the fourth ring.<br/>
"Hello?" She tried.<br/>
"Colonel?" It was him. She didn't think he'd have the balls to call. Sure, last week, she had spared his life, only with the promise of service in times of need. But It didn't mean he had the right to consider himself redeemed.<br/>
"What do you want?" Her voice as cold as ice.<br/>
"I need a favor." Came Lamplighter's reply.<br/>
"It's already delivered. You're still breathing." Grace felt as her teeth clunked together with rage.<br/>
"I know, I know." Lamplighter acknowledged remorsefully. "It's about Hugh Campbell."<br/>
"What about him?" Mallory mouthed her thought. Wasn't the boy with Butcher now?<br/>
"I need a safe place, for meeting you and Butcher. The kid's life is on the line."<br/>
"Why would I ever trust a word you say?" She hissed with poison in her voice.<br/>
"This isn't about ME, Grace. Fuck me. I'm trying to help here. I cannot undo what I've done, I know. Believe me I know. But one innocent life is one innocent life, right?" Lamplighter pleaded.<br/>
Grace paused, weighing what Lamplighter had said. She wanted to hang up and will herself to never having to listen to this cockroach ever again. But if he was saying the truth, If the kid's life was on danger… well, she couldn't just let go, out of blind vengeance. Hugh had done nothing wrong. Hell, the kid was virtually a saint among them. "…Damn it. Well, I'll see what I can do. Tomorrow night, I'll send you the address. Lamplighter, if I find out that you…"<br/>
"We don't have until… Fuck it, All right. I'm waiting. Thank you." Lamplighter hung up, leaving Mallory staring at the forest's landscape of her house while holding her phone.<br/>
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
It was a mess.<br/>
She had literally turned everything upside-down; as if a bomb had went off in the living room and tore everything that would dare to remind her of a normal life. That's why it was exceptionally awkward when Starlight showed at her doorsteps, tears smearing her face waiting for an invitation to come in. Maeve couldn't shut the door in her face. She just couldn't.<br/>
"I had nowhere else to go." Starlight sobbed. Maeve looked, with her steel-made grace, perpetually looking unimpressed, when in reality, she was damn sure impressed; shell-shocked even.<br/>
"What happened to you?" words tainted with the smallest suggestion of worry found her behind her cupped hands as they squeezed her tear-stricken face in an attempt to make it bleed anguish. A pus that must have gotten rid of. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to live on with the infection that was eating her heart.<br/>
"He's dead. Storm-front… She…She killed him" Annie whined. Maeve nodded at no-one in particular, but seated beside her and waited. Waited for the grief to run its course, should it take the whole day or even more. It had to wear off on its own; there was nothing she could do; Nothing anyone could do, really. She herself was used to loss. Elena wasn't the only one she had to cut loose. She once had told Starlight that their weakness is the same as anyone: the people they care about. She'd meant it, and God fucking knew that she felt for her. It always ends the same way, she reckoned, with the outlived/deserted picking up the pieces.<br/>
As for Annie; She had worn a strong façade. Accepting firsthand the possibility of it all being hopeless. But she was not. She had dusted off the statue of hope at the back of her mind so many times that she had no doubt of its speckless glimmer. Sure, she was preparing herself for the worst, but not quite. A maneuver was not coequal to the real act. There was always a safe zone, one singular line that no amount of despair could get past to, right up until now. When Storm-front conveyed the disastrous news, she had turned and looked at her hope. It should have been there, right? Except that it was vacant now, filled with a heavy atmosphere of stale misery.<br/>
She cried herself to sleep. Maeve stood up and found her a blanket out of the shit littering all around them. She then leaned back in the couch and lighted a half-burned cigarette that she'd found in the ashtray, sighing the smoke.<br/>
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
It was mainly dark in his cell. That's why he couldn't tell if it was day or night when he woke up. His own sticky clothes were gone, that was for sure; so was his shoes and the halfway scorched stubble he had grown in his few days(?) of residence at Sage Grove, as well as the week leading to his imprisonment. He was now lying on the single bed in the room, for the first time after he had come there. Seriously? He thought groggily. Had Lamplighter done all this? He could swear he didn't get into the Hospital's clothing on his own and he definitely hadn't had the privilege of investing any energy on shaving. The fact that it must have been done by no-one else than a retired Janus of a Supe made his skin crawl. How out of it was he to not notice being handled like a fucking infant?<br/>
He tried to move, only to be rewarded by an invisible spear through his forehead. He yelped with pain. As if on cue, the door to his cell opened and Lamplighter crept in, holding a tray in his hands.<br/>
"Hungry?" He asked.<br/>
Hughie felt nauseated. Even the sight of food was enough to get him to retch. "No, thank you." He croaked.<br/>
"You're not turning into "Starveman" or something, are you?" It must have been Lamplighter's method of lifting up his mood. Though It must have meant something else, too. A special hint at something important that had happened to him. He considered it in his splintered mind. Oh fuck. He remembered.<br/>
"What did you do to me?" Hughie asked the roof above his head, unable to do much else. Lamplighter complied his silent plea, appearing in his field of view, towering above the bed.<br/>
"She'll arrives any minute now." Lamplighter squinted "Can you sit?"<br/>
"I think." Hughie tried to sound strong and he got off the filthy mattress despite the awful pain radiating through his skull. "Ah fuck." He exclaimed.<br/>
"Headache?" Lamplighter raised an eyebrow.<br/>
"Yeah. More like chronic decapitation." He countered as he squinted in the dim light.<br/>
"You wouldn't want me to turn on the lights." Lamplighter promised.<br/>
"Guess not." Hughie looked at the silhouette of the man who had been unnervingly nice to him. Lamplighter must have smelled his suspicion.<br/>
"I know you think I'm a psycho pervert who likes to, I don't know, touch people when they're knocked out." He shrugged. "I'm not. Okay? I tried to preserve you as much as I could, so that your friends would find more than your corpse."<br/>
"My… you know Butcher?" Hughie gulped down the nausea that had tried to crawl its way up his esophagus.<br/>
"Yes I know Butcher. And he knows me."<br/>
"Ahmm…" Hughie attempted on pointing at his own face, which of course didn't go as planned and he looked like an idiot asking for permission. Fuck this shit. He'd never felt so small in his whole life.<br/>
"You started rubbing off the burns in your sleep. I guess nightmares. Look at the blood under your nails if you don't believe." Lamplighter said neutrally. "It was nothing. Forget it."<br/>
Hughie smiled feebly, not sure If Lamplighter caught that in the dark.<br/>
"I've called Mallory. She'll connect me to Butcher. You just have to hang on for a little while longer." Lamplighter mouthed empathically. "You have a bleeder. Inside your abdomen. No thanks to Storm-front. But It must be small, considering that you're still alive."<br/>
Hughie continued on looking baffled.<br/>
"saw the bruises. I don't know how much longer you can get by. They'd better hurry." Lamplighter walked away and looked outside carefully; clearly waiting for one of Storm-front's regular visits.<br/>
"But shouldn't Compound V somehow… I don't know, fix it-fix me?" Hughie breathed through the pain in his head.<br/>
"No, kid. Not everyone shows the same effects with Compound V, and by the looks of it, it's only killing you." Lamplighter huffed.<br/>
"Okay, doesn’t that mean that you should stop, maybe?" Hughie suggested with as cheerfulness as he could muster.<br/>
"No. It doesn't. Now, eat something before she gets back. You hadn't eaten in what? 3 days? And that is if you know how to eat at the first place." Lamplighter teased. He put the tray within the kid's reach on the bed and left him to his own devices.<br/>
Hughie looked at his tray. Cheeseburgers and cabbage salad. No doubt Lamplighter had smuggled him this luxury, though wasteful. He could not stomach more than a few bites and he ended up hurling blood-tainted acid back up. He had not yet seen any utility for his own set of toilet at the corner of the room. He really was fine with retching blood on the filthy floor at the bed pillars, the farthest he could reach. Besides, most of this time he had been unconscious.<br/>
The door opened with a clunk, tearing himself from his thoughts, and three people came in. Hughie squinted hard to fight away the inky darkness of his unaccustomed eyes. They were Lamplighter-who was looking at his own feet, somewhat crestfallen, Hughie thought: what the fuck?-, Storm-front, and a third person. A woman. Braided her, small face, small stature. A thin Jacket around her upper torso. Storm-front gestured at Lamplighter, who clicked the lights on. Glare of angry fluorescent lamps assaulted Hughie's eyes and he covered his face with the back of his hand, but left a few fingers apart to peak at his guests. Blindness be damned, his hand fell numbly. What's going on? His mind complained. The girl, whose shoulder was in confines of Storm-front's supportive embrace, the girl smiling, looking at him affectionately, like she did countless times before; Braided -now visible in the light-blond hair, small face, small stature.<br/>
"Annie?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ouch... Someone's in trouble, AGAIN!</p><p>I love it when I receive your kind comments. Being not a native and all, makes me stumble upon some editorial errors now and then, which -of course- I should correct. But your heartwarming comments (and Kudos!) make it impossible for me not to go on with the story. Seriously. You folks are at this moment the best thing I have in my life;) Please let me know how you feel about where the story is going*_* "Lots of thanks, time to piss off (for me)"&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Backstabbing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A short chapter for y'all canaries out there&lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Storm-front's squeaky voice reached Hughie's terror-clogged ears. "Isn't it great? Starlight meets her puppet in a psych ward." She giggled.<br/>Hughie looked at Lamplighter, who shook his head ever so slightly, staring with grey solemn eyes into his, venting a silent alarm from every persecuted skin pore of his, however not allowed to voice his fret. <br/>Starlight –not Starlight; she couldn't possibly be smiling at his miserable state, right?- inched closer and sat on the bed, reaching out. Hughie retreated. "D-Don't. You… You're not her. Who the fuck are you?"<br/>"Awww, you're breaking her heart." Storm-front noted. "But then again, It's not your first time. Is it?" Her tone contorted itself from a mockery of pity to one cold as a fucking crocodile. Hughie looked pleadingly at Lamplighter as the girl-thing-whatever the fuck she was continued on smiling earnestly, patting his twitchy knee heartily. Lamplighter just stared at them as if, well, one could say vertically comatose. <br/>"Will you, dear?" Storm-front appealed with an artificial sweetness, beckoning at the girl, who reached into her jacket and brought out a blade. <br/>"Wo-ow." Hughie tried to run from the threat, but there was only so much room. His head was still at the brink of imploding, confusion merely adding a tasteless topping to his main-course of endless suffering. Not-Annie took his wrist in an iron-grip. He yelped and struggled weakly, easily overpowered by the small girl.<br/>"Do you know how it feels?" Oh fuck. It was HER voice. All right, It was definitely one of those feverish nightmares he tend to have in his long hours of slumber here. Ones he would not remember of anyways. Lamplighter told him that he had started hurting himself in his sleep; which meant that this could get intense. But… Okay, THAT was "intense". Time to wake up. He squeezed his eyes shut partly to overcome the crushing force of her grip on his already bruised wrist and partly to will himself to wake the fuck up before it gets any uglier than It was. <br/>Much to his exasperation, he did not wake up. "to be stabbed in the back by the person you trust the most?" Not-Annie hissed the last words as she leaned closer, her lips merely an inch away from his. And… That was it. Hughie yearned with all his viscera to give in. To forget about everything but this sole act of intimacy. He closed his eyes in a painful craving scowl; one that sought solace in a pair of amiable lips. Those that could miraculously make it all better. He knew that being the God's honest truth. But it was wrong, in the most wrongly way! He KNEW that she wasn't her Annie. He KNEW that. As if it wasn't enough of an evidence to his stupidity, Storm-front's presence and Lamplighter's silent plea to not fall for the trick all screamed at him.  <br/>But yeah, he was stupid. <br/>His will crushed under the weight of torments he had suffered. He felt chills tap-dancing across his skin. Annie/Not-Annie's lips were the only anchor that could keep him steady. He sank in the aura of that deceitful safety, should it be only for a few seconds. <br/>"Ahhhhh" He cried out as he felt something sharp pierce through his wrist. He fell backward and breathed erratically, exhaling pure agony. <br/>And the sight? Oh my God. Oh my God. Blood sprouted from the deep wound. Blade sticking out of it, bone deep all the way through his hand. He whimpered as She got hold of her dagger and pulled it out, leaving Hughie Howling in pain. <br/>"Now it's just CLOSE to what you did to me." She smiled one of her genuine smiles and backed off. Smiling contently as the poor boy writhed against the wall. <br/>"He doesn't seem to be healing, is he?" Storm-front reprimanded, looking at Lamplighter, whose eyebrows were knitted in barely-concealed concern. He croaked: "We should give it more time. None of them responded so quickly."<br/>Hughie continued on hyperventilating; Too afraid to even attempt on stemming the blood flow which freely stained his white shirt as he clutched the limp hand against his chest, all the while pressing-and bumping- the back of his head to the opposite wall as if having a seizure; eyes squeezed shut.<br/> "Sure we should." Storm-front answered dismissively as she headed to the door. Then she stopped and turned towards the girl.<br/>"I think you should stick around for a while." She winked viciously and left the room. <br/> "Lamplighter?" her scream echoed down the hall.<br/> "Don't you dare make a move on him!" He pointed a threatening finger at the Doppelganger and followed Storm-front outside.<br/>"He's gonna bleed out." He exclaimed urgently as he tried to keep up with her pace. <br/>"Okay?" She marched down the array of cells with absolute leisure. <br/>"He's valuable. If you want to defeat Starlight, he's the best shot you've got." Lamplighter blabbered, not sure if that even made sense. She looked at him with a dead stare. <br/>"You're gonna have a really hard time torching that useless boyfriend of yours." <br/>"All I'm saying is…" Lamplighter stuttered.<br/>"We have other patients. Perhaps the Doppelganger helps him out, how about that?" She motioned pointedly, and Lamplighter cringed. "Why would he need you, when he has his sweet Star-" She paused, looking up to the roof, her complexion turning almost green. <br/>"All right. You know what? Go take care of the twad. The rest we'll deal with later." She practically ran to the back door. Lamplighter was totally clueless. What the FUCK? <br/>As soon as she left, he ran to the control room, frantically searching the cameras around the building to find the reason for Storm-front's early departure. What he saw made him want to puke. Oh fuck. The kid's misfortune was just never-ending. He ran to Hughie's cell, closing the door behind his back, panting his terror out.<br/>"Homelander's here."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This can't go well, right?</p><p>p.s. I know that canonically the one Doppelganger that we knew was killed by Homelander. But I imagined there could be more of them than just one. So I brought one up to make things all more fucked upXD<br/>Hope you enjoyed it (cruelly).<br/>As always, your thoughts are very much appreciated*__*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Light through the cracks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Is he going to kill me too?" The Doppelganger wailed, growing back into an unambiguous gendered shell-colored creature. Lamplighter frowned at him, then turned his eyes to Hughie, who had slumped against the wall, sprawling his bloody wrist on the white-ish sheets of the bedding. <br/>"Oh Fuck." Lamplighter rushed towards him, taking his forearm and elevating it, so he could see the volar entrance of the wound. He pulled the sheet from beneath the kid and tore it into half, bandaging the wound with one long strap. <br/>"Hey Hey Hey, kid. Come on…" He slapped his –white as the aforementioned sheets- cheeks lightly. "Hughie…" He appealed. Hughie opened his eyes lazily and looked at Lamplighter, then at the Doppelganger who had lamely stood there at Lamplighter's orders, currently busy with chewing his/her nails.<br/>"You all right?" Lamplighter demanded. Hughie nodded weakly and looked at his abysmally bandaged wrist, then again at the unfamiliar presence in the room; who raised their hands in surrender.<br/>"I'm just a Doppelganger, that's all. I took orders"<br/>Lamplighter snapped at him: "what did you mean when you said he's gonna kill you too?"<br/>"He, who?" Hughie asked, on the verge of passing out, again! He'd phrased the question merely out of habit, not really looking for answers. He blinked repetitively at Lamplighter, as if pushing away the high currents of an oblivious, cozy daze.<br/>"Homelander… He's here." Lamplighter explained curtly. "Now, what did you mean?" He turned to the whining Doppelganger. He heard Hughie exclaiming "cool" as he shook his head understandingly. Somebody's going to be hooked up to a bunch of blood bags real soon.<br/>The Doppelganger squeaked. "He killed my brother, last month. Broke his neck." <br/>"All right, all right." Lamplighter stopped her/him and looked back at Hughie. "You're gonna come with me." He rushed outside and rolled in a gurney from the corridor. <br/>"Can you stand?" He asked, ignoring any suggestion of an answer as he hauled Hughie up grabbing under the kid's knees and shoulders. He put the emaciated boy on the stretcher and covered him with the sheets; head and all. Others would think that he's carrying a corpse -which wasn't that much of a stretch, considering how worryingly shallow the kid breathed-. He prayed Homelander wouldn't care to laser-check that.<br/>"You stay here, do what you do. Doppelgang or whatnot." <br/>He rolled the stretcher towards the door.<br/>"If you rather live, don't change into Starlight or Him for fuck's sake." He added as he headed out. <br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Lamplighter nearly bumped into the flag-caped Supe, who was surveying the interior of the building with a somewhat architectural discernment. <br/>"Hello there." He greeted well temperedly.<br/> "Sir." Lamplighter rolled the stretcher containing his wanted prisoner to one corner and stood in front of it. "Wasn't expecting you down here." He quipped.<br/>"Me neither." Homelander answered dismissively as he continued with his –most probably- laser aided supervision. Don't look at the stretcher, Don't look at the stretcher. Lamplighter implored. <br/>Homelander's gaze came out of focus and he glanced from above Lamplighter's shoulders, at the gurney. <br/>"Dead, ha?" He reprimanded somewhat hopefully. Lamplighter shook his head. <br/>"So you… you are retiring in this dismal psych, doing what? Overdosing people with Compound V?" Well, that was a fast conclusion. Lamplighter thought with horror. What else could he squeeze out from the concrete walls just by looking?<br/>"well…" Lamplighter faltered. "Mr. Edgar…" That will do; shifting the blame towards the boss. One that Homelander, much to his frustration, could not antagonize. <br/>"Not doing a good job by the looks of it." Homelander teased. <br/>Wait, what? Lamplighter's mind was racing. Had the America's number one Superhero smelled something? Did he know that Lamplighter had broken the rules so many times, only to keep one human alive, hoping that it would somehow erase his past awful deeds? <br/>"You're scared." Homelander noted, narrowing his eyes with scrutiny. <br/>"It's just that… You'd never paid a visit before." Lamplighter uttered with as much honesty as he could. <br/>"Yes, I hadn't." Homelander acknowledged, not giving up on his fear-sniffing crusade, just yet. Lamplighter was on edge. If He found out, they were fucked. Fuck the kid –he probably wouldn't last much anyways- He would be fucked too. He could only imagine the ways Homelander could cut him in two –or more meat steaks.  <br/> Homelander's face cracked into a wide smile and he patted Lamplighter's shoulder. <br/>"Come on, pal. Will you tour me around? It's just that I'm new in town and I only know you here. And others just… ran off." He pointed disappointedly.<br/>"Yeah sure." Lamplighter practically screamed as he guided the gurney towards his own room. "give me a sec." He ran after Hughie's –most definitely- unconscious form underneath the sheets and stuffed him in, locking the door.<br/>Well, tour-guiding Homelander in a building full of potential rivals for the greatest of the Seven. What could go wrong?<br/>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>"Butcher!" MM's voice yanked Butcher out of his thoughts; not pleasant ones, namely. He was sitting on a chair in their wreckage of a house -now even more depressing under the crushing weight of loss- drinking; He had been drinking for hours now. All the while receiving prudent looks from Frenchie and MM. Starlight and Kimiko had took off after their encounter with Storm-front; Silent, sullen.  Finally, MM had spoken up, calling out for Butcher's attention. <br/>Butcher glanced at him, pouring another glass of whisky, this time without looking; which did not go well and he ended up pouring alcohol all over the already filthy furniture as well as on his twitchy fingers. <br/>"Butcher, Stop." MM raised a finger in an act of admonition, which apparently did not sit well with the drunk man and he responded with one of his "Say that again and I'm going to punch you in the balls" smirks. And boy, when the sculpture was dried out, nobody could dodge that bullet. Well, Except for…<br/>It ain't matter now. He thought. The kid was not there and Butcher would not mind drinking himself into oblivion, and then some more. And if anybody came in the way, well… their funeral. It wasn't like no-one could stop him with a splash of cool eye-opener stupid innocuousness. <br/>"Man, we should talk. That's all I'm sayin" MM declared, moving his hands in the air by indication of non-involvement. <br/>"Talk about what?" Butcher growled, dismissing the picture with a landing hand on the bottle.<br/>"About what you nearly did, Motherfucker?" MM fumed. Now full-blown enraged.<br/>"What I did" Butcher repeated.<br/>"Yes. What you were about to do just like that. You were gonna slash a kid's throat." MM pressed his fist on Butcher's guest table. <br/>"I'm sorry I didn't. 'd die to see the look on the whore's face as she lost the only…" He stopped. Gulping down his shot.  <br/>"She killed him herself." Frenchie mentioned, as if worried that Butcher might have forgot.<br/>"done 'im a favor." He bared his teeth savagely.<br/>MM inched closed to the wasted man. "Look, I know you're grieving. We all are." <br/>"Are ya?" Butcher snapped. <br/>"Of course we are." Frenchie professed. "petit Hughie was one of us. But mon amie, he's gone. Or are you going to deny this too like the way with Becca?" <br/>Butcher looked at the French man with detestation, kicking his chair from underneath himself and marched towards him, aiming for the face. <br/>"Butcher, Butcher, wait." MM intervened, pushing back the gruff man with his own weight. Butcher slammed into him, never once letting go of his poisoned simper. <br/>"Stop." MM ordered, stretching out an arm between the two. <br/>There was a phone ringing; and for a few good seconds, nobody acknowledged that. Then Butcher reached into his pocket and brought out the phone with shaky hands.<br/>"Grace?" Frenchie and MM exchanged glances. <br/>"Butcher. We need to meet." She urged. <br/>"ain't got the time, love." He burped. <br/>"Have you been drinking?" Mallory chided, unbelieving.<br/>"O… cannot- hea- ya…" He shammed. "I'll-hangou-love."<br/>"It's about Hugh." Mallory spat.<br/>Frenchie and MM saw Butcher's abrupt silence, wondering the reason behind it, though oblivious.<br/>"I imagine you've been looking inside all your bottles for him. Well, there's someone who might know about the boy." Mallory added, displaying her best neutral tone. <br/>"The kid's dead, don't fuck with me Mallory" Butcher growled.<br/>There was a pause. Then Mallory's voice echoed in Butcher's ears, wavering under the weight of her own share of nightmares. <br/>"I don't think Hugh's dead. Midnight, the old garage. Don't let anybody see you." She hung up. <br/>Butcher stared at the phone in his hand for a long time, unable to process through the fuzzy cocoon of alcohol and grief. The bitch had said it was over, that she had mutilated and killed his boy. Mallory must have been mistaken; but then again how would she even know about Hughie at the first place? Butcher's heart thumped in his temples. He'salivehe'salivehe'salivehe'salive… echoing as a mantra in halls of his wasted bleary mind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I felt obliged to delve into some of the emotions first before I further continue with the story-telling. I hope I don't bore you:D so...let me know what you think?*_*<br/>Next chapter will be Lamplighter vs the boys, I promise^_^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Band of Brothers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A Van came into a halt in front of an arched entrance of a garage. Inside, Billy Butcher was sitting in the passenger seat, staring ahead numbly, his shirt drown in a gallon of water as a substitute to a more relaxed, prolonged soberness. Well, they didn't have time for such a luxury. When Mallory delivered the news, Butcher could barely control his anxiety, blabbering incomprehensible explanations and only forced to sort out his mind with MM punched him in the jaw. Afterwards, It was just being splashed in the face by freezing cold water and racing through the highways.<br/>Mallory was waiting for them, her crossed arms and the pantsuit concealing another presence. Butcher dismounted from his seat, effortfully maintaining his straight gait. <br/>She greeted him with a cold nod and fidgeted in her stance. <br/>"Fils de pute" Frenchie exclaimed, though refusing to make a move. <br/>Butcher frowned.<br/>"You two came back to bein' dear ol' friends, aye?" Mallory rolled her eyes and turned to MM, who was watching carefully, no comments.<br/>"Marvin, I thought you'd do a better job of sobering him up. He still stinks of alcohol from miles."<br/>Butcher sneered: "It smells much better from where I'm standin, love".<br/>"Okay." MM disregarded him as loudly as he could. "What's going on?" He asked.<br/>The man who was silent the whole time, looking at his lighter with as much scrutiny as someone who didn't know what it was, answered instead.<br/>"Hugh Campbell is at Sage Grove." He uttered, tiredly, fiddling with his lighter.<br/>"What the fuck d'you mean?" MM protested, eyeing Butcher alarmingly. "Storm-front said that she killed him." <br/>Lamplighter shook his head. "probably wanted to get you off her ass. He's alive, last I checked. Not doing very well though." He glanced at Butcher. "kid's been bleeding internally for days. And that's just…"<br/>Butcher moved forward, past Mallory and looked the Supe in the eye, his mouth twitching with imminent firing of indignation. Lamplighter stared back, unaffected. <br/>"I…" He rubbed his eyes, presumably getting rid of the retained liquid stare. "I took care of him… sorta." He claimed.<br/>"And Why. Would you bother telling us all this bullshit if ya ain't planning on hunting us down, cunt?"<br/> "He's not lying" Mallory informed and offered him a bag. Butcher took it, keeping his death stare on Lamplighter as he reached inside. His hand collided with something and he brought in out; A watch, Hughie's watch. He'd seen the shit a hundred times too many not to miss the resemblance. His wrist ruffled some more and scrunched out a fabric. T-shirt. Used-to-be white Billy Joel crap, now drenching the stench of dried blood. Butcher was intractable. <br/>There was a clamor. Everyone shouting "Stop" and "Butcher" and "Butcher, Stop" as they reached for the old man. Lamplighter levelled down his lighter and allowed being brought up by his collar. <br/>"Where.Is.He?" Butcher grinded his teeth, grapey breath blowing into Lamplighter's face. <br/>"I told you. Sage Grove. Storm-front's orders. She kept him there, done some nasty…" Lamplighter stopped, deciding against further infuriating his assaulter. <br/>"The point is, the kid can't stay there longer." He released himself from Butcher's grasp, yet refusing any acknowledgement of yielding towards his lighter/weapon. <br/>"I've been ordered to dose him." He added finally.<br/>Franchie raised an eyebrow. "dose him?"<br/>"With Compound V. It doesn't seem to respond very well though." Mallory interfered this time, pulling Butcher by his trench-coats collar away from Lamplighter. <br/>"Stop." She ordered calmly. <br/>Butcher channeled his anger into his tone, spitting poison towards the Supe.<br/>"You telling me, You, cunt, have been dosing Hughie with your goddamn juice?" Even his stating the question dripped of threat. <br/>"Yes, I have. Only because that would prolong his usefulness to Storm-front, ergo prolonging his life." Lamplighter shrugged, as if more to convince himself than them.<br/>Butcher pressed on Mallory's steady arm which barred him from a full-blown, fists and all attack, Supe or no Supe. <br/>"You KNEW what It'd do to him, you motherfucker!" He raised his voice as a substitute for physical infliction of pain that he yearned for. <br/>"William." Mallory warned.<br/>"You fucking knew what torture that'd be." Butcher pointed a finger, an exemplar of his wrath, of all the internal torments his half-drunk mind was going through, towards Lamplighter, who listened silently.<br/>"I'll fucking kill ya." He uttered his ultimatum, without attempting on actualizing it. The cunt was still his only contact with Hughie; He couldn't go on a rampage, not right now. He looked back at the team. "We're gotta go." <br/>"Wait… no." Lamplighter protested. "You can’t just go in headfirst into that shit."<br/>Butcher smirked. "O' Watch me."<br/>Mallory intervened. "Butcher, He's right. You're not even sober enough to stand on your two feet. And you heard him. He's taking care of the boy." <br/>"Piss poor job he'd done." Butcher growled.<br/>"Butcher." MM tried. "We should first call Starlight. She can help a lot more than any of us." <br/>Butcher narrowed his eyes, almost considering it. Then decided against it.<br/>"Call whoever the fuck you want, I am goin now'."<br/>"Storm-front visits the center every day about noon. You go now, if shit goes sideways, you may have to face HER" Lamplighter noted. <br/>Butcher shook his sand-filled head. "And she's gonna what… petting the kid back to sleep? She's a lunatic cunt. I ain't gonna wait for the bitch to finish with her torture session." He squeezed the t-shirt which had remained in his grasp, one white-knuckled squeeze, bringing it up for everyone to see. "I ain't gonna let her draw any more drop of the kid's fuckin' blood, ya'll hear me?" <br/>Lamplighter nodded slightly. "Okay then. But at least, call the Barbie Supe. And Oh-" He looked at Frenchie. "Follow me."<br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Stan Edgar was sitting on his management chair, watching the sunset in his ivory palace. No companies; He wished.<br/>Vought's flag-caped asset had found him again, disturbing his rare momenta of piece.<br/>"Homelander?" He acknowledged.<br/>Homelander was distraught. He forced a crooked smile, not receiving one in return.<br/>"I'd like to ask you something." He pointed out, his index finger depicting the meagerness of his request.<br/>"Sure." Edgar dismissed his plea, feeling no more obliged to deliver the favor than if going for a direct "No".<br/>"Sage Grove." Homelander enounced the name, making noises with his rigored hard palate. "Why didn't I know about that?" He poured the remainder of his smile on his lips.<br/>"Why didn't you?" Edgar huffed. "Why didn't YOU…" He bore two sets of uninterested eyes into homelander's laser-equipped ones long and exasperated, making Homelander nearly –yet not quite- flinch.<br/>"I'm afraid to say not everything in this whole wide world is about you." <br/>Homelander did not answer, too busy containing his wrath. How was it that Edgar had the right to defy him like nobody else could? That was ridiculous, right? He could melt the guy's face like candlestick, much like the way he did with…; though he wouldn't. He couldn't cover for something, for someone that big.<br/>"I am the face of the Seven. If you are going to add members to the team, that only makes sense that I know about them; How about that?" He motioned his red gloves in the air, as if stating the obvious. <br/>"And what makes you think that YOU are indispensable?" Edgar asked calmly.<br/>Homelander looked at him with locked jaw, blue eyes narrowing in a murderous stare. Edgar was the least impressed. Eventually, Homelander retreated with a mockery of understanding smile and headed for the elevator.<br/>"You know, people choose what they want to become." Homelander stopped in his tracks, rolling his eyes at the most definitely boring diplomatic advice. "Those who receive Compound V." Edgar added. Well, THAT was interesting.<br/>"Civilians think it's just random mutations, but it's really not. They choose their powers. Not consciously, no. But in their deepest core of being, everyone has a yearning. A weakness they seek to conceal behind the clamor of power. One would dream of a giant penis" He paused, looking pointedly at Homelander "And one would only feel safe if they glare laser rays."<br/>Homelander resumed his exit, jaw twitching, certain of his next destination...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? MORE SUSPENSE?<br/>HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA:D<br/>How was it?:D<br/>Did you like Homelander vs. Edgar?;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Many Happy Returns (Literally)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was dark when Annie woke up.<br/>
And very-very smooth.<br/>
She was lying on a King-sized bed, buried blissfully under the weight of acrylic blankets; which she tackled down to her knees upon her immediate alertness. Her eyes started throbbing by assaultive rays of light that dripped from the jarred door. A bedroom. She was in a bedroom. She climbed herself up her elbows and stared into the darkness' eyes. Hughie. Her mind reminded her miserably. She felt a sob rising in her chest, threatening to burst any minute. She held it there with the tip of her sanity, just barely.<br/>
There was a knock on the door, probably what had woken her up at the first place.<br/>
Queen Maeve's aloof voice echoed:<br/>
"Somebody named MM? called three times in a row. Thought you might wanna get that" She waved a phone in the tear of light amid the murky darkness.<br/>
Annie got to her feet. "Thank you." She took her phone. Who would believe that Maeve was capable of showing that level of compassion? Not only had she let Starlight in her house, but also had carried her to her own bed-well, Elena's bed technically- and took her calls? It must be Christmas. But then again, despite their differences, she had already shown her best intentions towards Starlight one too many times.<br/>
Annie dialed MM's number, and waited, clearing her throat from any residual drowse. She counted Maeve's footsteps retreating from her privacy.<br/>
"Annie" MM picked up. "Listen." At least, he had gone on to become friendlier towards her. That was Hughie's doing too: Always being the peacemaker, the beating heart of the team, and now…<br/>
She nearly missed MM saying "He's alive", too busy drowning herself in lamentation. And when she did, she wasn't sure of who MM was referring to.<br/>
"Hughie's alive."<br/>
"Wha…" she choked on her words. Was she still dreaming? Was that some kind of fucked up nightmare where she was given the only news she could ever hope for, only for it to blast in her face. She did not care either way. If that was the only form of closure she could get, so be it. "He…" She sobbed. Relieved out of her mind, idly tasting the salty tears that streamed down her already acid-washed sore face.<br/>
"Don't get your hopes up. Kid's in a shitload of trouble. We need your help." MM stated matter-of-factly.<br/>
"Okay." Annie practically screamed. She felt her whole being sizzling underneath the thin cool air of the room. Her senses were firing all at once, too overwhelmed by her roller coaster of emotions.<br/>
"He's being kept at Sage Grove. Meet us there at first light" MM added urgently and then hung up, leaving Starlight to her hyperventilation.<br/>
"You Okay?" Maeve called out from outside.<br/>
She gulped down her bewilderment. Oh my God, he was alive. Hughie was alive. She tried, but could not get hold of herself and ended up crashing down against the bed. That's when the door opened and someone stepped in.<br/>
"What is it?" Maeve's voice reached her, as she tried to pry Annie's face away from her knees. She brought up her head, boring wet pupils into Maeve's searching orbs. "He's alive." She uttered, Releasing a sob that's been building up in her chest since –well, since forever. Maeve raised her eyebrows, a shadow flitting across her complexion; one of composed joy and visible despair packed tight together.<br/>
"Well, good for you." She exclaimed coldly.<br/>
Annie frowned. Incredulous.<br/>
"I'm sorry." Maeve squeezed her eyes in self-deprecation. "I didn't mean…"<br/>
"Okay." Starlight rose from her space on the ground, ignoring her apology. Seriously? When she's devastated it's all fluff and care. Otherwise, good for her? "I should go. He's still in big danger and God knows what state he'll be in." Her heart broke at the sound of her own statement.<br/>
"Okay." Maeve approved quietly as she watched Starlight striding across the door.<br/>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
He woke with the sensation of a soft caress on his cheek. His eyelids fluttered open, welcoming the pain souvenired from his head being nearly cracked open on the hard ground like a fucking watermelon.<br/>
The light was dim, though somehow enough to see the woman looming over him. Mid-thirties, green eyes, fine blond hair. She cooed. "Sssshhh, baby. That's okay, you're safe now." Hughie obliged, closing his eyes to her soothing voice. Everything was fine. Except… WHAT THE HELL?<br/>
His eyes shot open. "Mom?" slipping out of his mouth involuntarily, longingly, miserably. Had she somehow been told of all the shit he'd gone through? Of him being at death's door too many times to count. Without her. Without her even knowing. And if so, had she flown towards her baby boy, who she had left ALONE years ago?<br/>
Her smile was warm, empathizing even. She looked exactly the way that she looked in Hughie's 5-year-old birthday party, the year before she left. Even her clothes matched her appearance in the one photo that Hughie had kept of her all those years.<br/>
But it didn't matter if she was a memory, or a ghost, or whatever. She was there, where and when he needed her most and that was enough. That is, if she remained loyal to her gentle memory.<br/>
"Aww… you don't look so dope, honey." She grimaced, cupping his face, which he relished despondently. "What can I say, you were always a fucking loser. Just like your dad." She drew back her hand, depriving Hughie of her flitting touch altogether. He did not react. She wasn't real anyway. His mind reasoned.<br/>
However, God knew that words could hurt.<br/>
"I guess that's why I took off. I was sick of YOU, honey. YOU, snotty little baby that you were, always whining, always clinging to me like a goddamn parrot." She spat, narrowing her eyes as much as Hughie's imagination of her utter sense of disgust allowed.<br/>
"You fuck everything up. And then others will have to clean up the mess you made." She sneered at Hughie's aghast face. "Face it darling. People are better off without you. Just the way that I was."<br/>
She got hold of Hughie's chin, digging her nails in his already bruised skin and pressing her palm on his windpipe. He yelped. "No… Mom… please." Feeling nausea climbing up his chest, clouding his view with its abhorrence. "Mom." He pleaded and she just smiled back, pressing harder, pushing Hughie further towards boundaries of the realm of the dead.<br/>
***<br/>
"Hey… Hughie. Wake up. Wake up Goddammit." Hughie slowly came to, finding his weight off the blanket, and weirdly, in someone's lap. He blinked quickly, hastily painting the image of a gruff bearded man looking down at him on his blurred canvas of eyes. "Butcher." He rasped. Which barely crossed the threshold for audibility. Butcher was looking at him with such horror that he thought of apologizing; but it would probably sound stupid, so he went on with staring blankly at the older man, which too looked stupid, but at least less energy-consuming. Frankly, He wasn't sure if he was capable of summoning his bandaged hand to himself, which had rolled out of Butcher's firm embrace, sprawled on the sheets.<br/>
"You all right?" Butcher asked, his eyebrows knitting heart wrenching distress down his face.<br/>
Hughie nodded feebly, though kind of out of it. For all he knew it could be another nightmare in which Butcher would soon start torturing him in one way or another. He wasn't really that much concerned. There was one way to find out, anyways; So Hughie let himself drift into his snoozing apprehension.<br/>
"Hey hey son, none of that. Open that mitten's eyes of yours." Butcher pleaded.<br/>
Hughie obeyed, bringing Butcher back to his restricted field of view. Silent; terrifyingly calm, as if having already accepted his doom. Butcher smothered the thought of the petrifying resemblance to another time, another lanky kid, and another soulless eyes. He had to get the boy to talk, to move, to do something.<br/>
"That's right. That's right son. I'm gonna get you out. I promise. Just hold on" He was on the verge of tears. 'Wow, Butcher looks scared now? Excuse me, why is he scared? What happened?' Hughie wondered.<br/>
There was a sound coming from the door; opening and closing briskly. It was Lamplighter; Hughie could tell without looking. He had came to memorize his half-caregiver's every move as a way of keeping his sanity in check. There came his prize; OR NOT!<br/>
"We are so fucked." Lamplighter exclaimed, horrified. "Homelander's back. He's killing the subjects one by one."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>O-kay... Intense, ha?<br/>I really wanted to do a Hughie's mom piece. so...sorry for your broken hearts;-;<br/>And fi-fucking-nally, Butcher found his Canary;-;<br/>Whoof! They ARE really fucked, aren't they?0_0<br/>what do you think?<br/>as always, kudos and comments are very much appreciated&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Only the good die young</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"That will do." Frenchie severed the right combination of wires in the small casket on the wall, glancing back at Lamplighter who was leaning onto a counter, with a snobby look on his face and his lighter being fidgeted in one jittery hand. <br/>"No bleeps no more" He exclaimed, showing off his last act of engineering on the control box with a twirl. <br/>"Good job." Lamplighter comforted, absentmindedly. Frenchie retreated to a chair in front of the screens and sat there, rubbing his chin. Within his reach were Lamplighter's hasty provisions for when he had hurried to the kid after his little tour with Homelander and hooked him up on a stash of O-negatives; Discarded needles and bloodied cotton-wool balls left unattended on the desk. <br/>"You did all this" Frenchie pointed to the littered objects, wagering blindly on the story behind them. "For our petit Hughie, yes?"<br/>Lamplighter continued playing with his lighter. "yeah." He concurred.<br/>"You're what, an altruist now?" It came out so blunt, so that Frenchie brushed his head with a restless hand as if to thrust a veil on some of its bitter meaning. <br/>Lamplighter glared at him for a second, and then looked away timidly.<br/>"I couldn’t do much for the others. They were far too gone. But I could do a lot for the kid." He shrugged.<br/>Frenchie nodded understandingly. "I tried to do the same, you know." He chuckled. "tried to SAVE someone for a change." <br/>Lamplighter had stopped his seemingly uncontrollable tic, listening closely, as if taking a mental note. <br/>"I fucked it up, of course. But no matter what, it felt good while it lasted." Frenchie cut himself off of any more heart to heart by standing and glimpsing through the small glass window embedded inside the door. <br/>"I can't see them." He notified. <br/>"They've got this." Lamplighter reassured him.<br/>They just had to wait. If only it was that simple of a task.<br/>As if on cue, Frenchie's phone started buzzing on the granite, startling both himself and Lamplighter, who automatically posed a threatening stance against the innocuous device. Frenchie picked up.<br/>"MM?"<br/>MM had stayed put outside the facility. Him calling, alone reeked of something going to shit. Frenchie didn't need him saying: "Get the fuck out." to know that for a fact.<br/>***<br/>"Okay, you fuck off." Lamplighter reasoned. "I'll bring 'em out."<br/>"The hell you will, asshole. I wouldn't trust my caca on you." Frenchie snapped. Crossing his arms in proof of his adamancy.<br/>"Frenchie." Lamplighter gripped the other man's elbow, glaring down at him. "I SAID I'll BRING THEM OUT." He stressed out each word in rhythmical harmony to his nails digging into his flesh. He nodded urgently, willing the French man to get IT. Get that he could be the hero for a change. That he had earned this –most probably- futile act of loyalty. This was as close to redemption as he could get his hands on.<br/>Frenchie folded.   <br/>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Annie had long dogfought Butcher over her most entitled right to be there, and the deal was just to the exterior of the cell 17 in ward B. Butcher wouldn't trust Hughie's rescue mission with anyone other than himself, not even her. If anything, that was actually heartwarming. She was glad that Hughie had someone who he could always count on, especially while she herself had failed him so horribly. So, she didn't press the matter.<br/>Kimiko put an arm lock on the second to last guard, leaving the other befuddled looking boy to be sparingly electrocuted by Starlight, effectively clearing their way in the corridor to ward B. Butcher hurried 'round the corner, mouthing the numbers on the doors, cursing in raw relief as he found 'the one'. He kept Lamplighter's authority card in front of a scanner, waiting for its identification. The screen brightened with a green light and the door was unlocked. He crept inside, not even giving Annie a most flitting glimpse of Hughie's prison cell as he disappeared behind metal and cement. <br/>So she stood there alongside Kimiko, vigilantly guarding the corridor, while her eyes burned with an alloy of yearning and sorrow; panic eating her insides like acid at the back of her throat. How would he look walking out of that room? How much had he suffered in that hands of that bitch? Would he ever be able to forgive her for putting him through all that? And The worst part was that she knew he would, in a heartbeat. And She didn't fucking deserve that. She'd never deserve his childish leniency. For all he cared, Annie January could get away with anything. Well, she wasn't that forgiving towards herself.  <br/>She didn't care about that now. All she wanted to do at that right moment was to rush inside and be the one who he would see and lean onto. She would later tell him how awfully sorry she was, how utterly miserable she had felt losing him to Storm-front's predator claws. He should know that. In case…<br/>She mentally cursed herself. Focus Annie. Fo… What?<br/>Lamplighter had emerged from the turn in the corridor. White as chalk. Annie shook her head in anticipation. "What's wrong?"<br/>Kimiko accentuated the question with a hostile look on her face, probably having smelled treason, or best case scenario, just good old basic fuck-up. <br/>"Any of you guys ever fought Homalander?" He inquired, sheepishly. <br/>"What the hell? Wh-?" Annie realized. "Oh No."<br/>"Yes." Lamplighter countered curtly, pointing at the cell. "Big man not done yet?" He opened the door with another card. "Ah shit. The kid probably needs a booster."<br/>"Wait, wait." She implored. "What do we do?" <br/>"He had already slaughtered everyone in ward A. Subjects and guards all the same. We should get the fuck out of here. That's what." He disappeared inside. Again, leaving Annie in the agonizing dark.<br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Lamplighter found Butcher cradling the much smaller man in his lap trying to rouse him. The Kid looked somewhat unresponsive, sluggishly looking up past Butcher's disheveled complexion towards an indistinct fleck on the roof, neck hyperextended on Butcher's protective arm. Despite the extensive treatment Lamplighter had given him last night, He still looked like shit. Lamplighter delivered the news breathlessly and reached inside his uniform's pocket, bringing out a capped syringe. Old man's not gonna like that. He noted mentally. <br/>He stepped closer and knelt on the filthy floor beside them. Using his only opportunity while Butcher was busy cursing their luck with his colorful mouth as he massaged the kid's sternum with his rock-hard knuckles, he pierced Hughie's skin just above his Adam's apple on the left side and pushed the gigantic bolus of Compound V in the kid's already abused veins before Butcher could realize what was happening.<br/>"Oi…'The fuck You think You doin'?" Butcher growled, pulling up the boy against his own chest protectively. Hughie moaned in response, latching onto the older man's trench coat. <br/>"We gotta run for our lives. If we're lucky that'd give him enough juice to keep up.  Come on." Lamplighter stood up and ran towards the door.<br/>Butcher looked down at the kid, witnessing the exact moment of change. Hughie's glazed iris cleared in patches, like a stormy dawn in an evergreen garden culminating its gloom by sunrise tearing through the clouds and his breathing evened out. He struggled feebly in Butcher's arms, trying to untangle himself from all that muscle covering his scrawny limbs like bubble-wrap.<br/>"You all right?" Butcher fretted, feeling his own heart beating somewhere far outside his body. He maneuvered him up; keeping his welcoming arms ready to catch the boy, should he fell. He didn't. Hughie got to his feet somewhat drunkenly and blabbered an array of unintelligible responses. Butcher stood close by, pinching Hughie's bloodied shirt above his heart in one fist, fastening his imminently needed grip.    <br/>Lamplighter sneered. "Let's go." He led the way.  <br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>They did get out. Nearly. <br/>Annie gasped as she saw Hughie stumbling out of the cell, with Butcher just barely supporting his weight. The husky man had a hard time maintaining his stoic complexion and was full-blown panicked; his eyebrows and the soft heart-wrenching looks thrown now and then in Hughie's direction were enough of an evidence to his unvocal unease.  <br/>And boy, did Hughie look like a mess. He was in a psych suit, with innumerous blood stains on it, flecking out his consciousness away. He didn't seem to recognize Annie, or better yet anyone in their small rescue team. However, he allowed being manhandled by Butcher despite being well capable of staggering his way out in his trance. His eyes were focused on the task in hand, pupils dilated; overstimulated to the point of merely holding it together towards the finish line. Annie dreaded to think of what would happen when they ever crossed the safety border. <br/>Butcher ordered. "Let's go." Pushing on his rust-covered palm on Hughie's chest, redirecting the robot body of his across the emergency exit, with Lamplighter leading the way.<br/>They would have gotten out; Laying down their most beloved, most innocuous everybody-loves-him boy in the back seat of their van; the closest to a home any of them had. They would have let him rest from his adrenaline –technically, Compound V-induced strive. And they would sure as fuck have taken him to a hospital.<br/>Would have. Being the operative phrase. <br/>As they trudged down the corridor, an unmistakable voice echoed right at their back, making the hair on their nape stand on end. Fluorescent lights above their heads flickered and died out one by one, as Homelander tore off his red eyes from them. Daylight poured inside from the opportunistic windows.  <br/>"Am I not deadly delighted to see you folks?" The voice teased. <br/>They turned towards him, standing at the end of the corridor, hands to his waist; smiling broadly. Starlight took a step ahead, her jaw muscles formicating by the sheer force of disgust.<br/>"Starlight!" Homelander exclaimed. "You certainly do light up the room. Don't you?"<br/>He skimmed through the faces. "William" He acknowledged; Quickly glancing over the lanky boy in his firm grasp, who returned the favor by a death stare, not the least intimidated; which was weird, given how consistently pant-wetting this Campbell boy normally looked. "And our perpetual traitor, Lamplighter." He counted with glee. <br/>Starlight reasoned. "Let us go. And we wouldn't tell anyone that you destroyed Vought's little project. How about that?"<br/>Homelander cracked into laughter, stepping forward. "Come here." He ordered as he pulled Annie right beside himself, facing the others. <br/>"Oh dear, You're gonna love watching what I'm about to do to your pet human." He caressed Annie's cheek, almost tenderly pulling away her blond hair behind her ear. <br/>She choked on her sob, crushed down right there and then into the abyss of defeat. "Please, Homelander. Don't." She implored, only to be rewarded by a pat on the shoulder and a huff, as Homelander armed himself with two red boiling irises. <br/>And that's when all hell broke loose.<br/>Kimiko was the first to get into motion; climbing up the roof and crabbing her way towards the Supervillain, in hopes of an upper hand, literally and figuratively. But Homelander saw her merely as a nuisance and didn't take his eyes off his primary target.<br/>As for Lamplighter, he stepped on the way with his lighter ready –to be blasted into nothingness-, reminiscing the promise he'd made earlier to Frenchie. I'll get 'em out. He sorrowfully ruminated his serious vow.<br/>And Butcher; well, he did the only thing he could and tried to cover Hughie with his own body, to which he –the stupid purehearted kid that he was- would not sign permission so easily. Hughie disentangled himself from Butcher's unbelieving cogwheel of limbs and trudged down the hall, walking past Lamplighter's horrified face and standing right in the line of Homelander's laser beam. Annie heard herself screaming, her wailing mixed with one of lower frequency; a more baritone howl as Homelander adjusted his gaze right above the kid's heart, mirroring a sniper's blast. <br/>Annie tried with all she had to release herself from Homelander's iron-grip, but to no avail. Her eyes exhausted an array of smothered blazes, desperately looking for a wire, a power source, a lamp even; anything that could surge through her and do as little as distracting Homelander from his brutal intent. That reminded her of another time, another dire predicament where Hughie's life was on the line. "You've got a pretty shite superpower, don't ya?" She remembered Butcher scolding her over her inability to cauterize Hughie's gut wound. Had it ever healed? She wondered. What difference would it make, She was going to watch the man that she loved being slaughtered right in front of her eyes and she couldn't do shit to stop it from happening. She yelped, looking into Hughie's eyes one last time as she felt the heat of pure energy to her left scorching her every fiber of senses. She bore her hopelessness into Hughie's surprisingly calm face and then, in her most agonizing heartbeat, those familiar eyes disappeared into a tincture of gaslight. Wait… what?  <br/>Bright green light emanated from Hughie's eyeballs, matching their background hue. It was the most spectacular thing Annie had ever seen; then again, she'd always cherished that particular color. If it had to have a name, it should have been called "the color of Hughie's eyes", for there were no synesthetic sight competing with those irises. Hughie brought his one hand up as if physically halting Homelander's assault. The blaze flickered a few more seconds before regressing into Hughie's pupils, Tracing behind a streak of nosebleed across his face. <br/>And just like that, The red blaze in Homelander's eyes died out altogether.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*evil laugh*<br/>you didn't see that coming, did you?;) <br/>I'm so excited to see your reactions. lots of love&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Extraction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So, this was what A-train felt, huh? Hughie wondered groggily as he continued to stare blankly at the perplexed supervillain, feet ready for a green light to fold on themselves and stay there, thank you very much. He heard Butcher exclaiming "fucking hell" and he agreed. Yes, Fucking hell. <br/>Back to the point. Short-circuits of white-hot energy dancing underneath your skin, and boy, it was an ugly sight of a dance. Hughie had not once tried drugs in school; He was always that lame goodie two shoes "what if the principal finds out" kind of kid. Which led him to not being able to find the right junky term for what was boiling inside of him. He was sure of one thing, though. THAT... WAS AN OVERDOSE! Those bullies back in 10th grade; they would love this.<br/>Sorry. Another question: Was A-train's insides churning like a witch's unearthly contents of a cauldron too, when… well, when he ran through Robin? He had spent so much time resenting Mr. Marathon –and yeah, he had CPR-ed the asshole back when he was having a heart attack, but that's not the point- that it had never occurred to him that it could all be some kind of fucked up misfortune; and who he was kidding. Hughie was like the GOD of misfortunes. Maybe it was him all along. Dragging people down with him; and now, after all that shit he'd gone through, transforming into something that he had long despised. Yay! As if it wasn't unhealthy enough, Hughie's heart began to race even faster by that thought. Was he gonna hurt someone? What if he hurts someone? What if he hurts Annie… or God forbid, normal –not being hyped up by Supe steroids, no offence Annie- human beings in the room. That would leave Butcher. What if he hurt Butcher? Would they be fast enough stop him? Why aren't they stopping him? He brushed off the blood that was flooding down his parched lips down to the fabric of the one too many times drenched long-sleeves of the center, goofily noting to himself: ah shit.   <br/>Homelander narrowed his crystal blue eyes in absolute reproach towards his –much to Hughie's disgrace- scrawny opponent. He must have been embarrassed to dead by his little show-down unwinding like that. Hughie didn't know if he had it in him to go for another round; preferably not, if you don't mind. I have my hands full with trying to stand on my two feet now.<br/>"Oops, looks like you've got yourself a baby-Supe to nuke, William." Homelander finally stated; looking over his audience expectantly, ending his survey somewhat awkwardly with Kimiko who was right above his head. Upon that notion, she let go and balanced herself in front of the caped Supe. Hughie wanted to point out that it wasn't necessary and though he appreciated the effort, her standing in front of him was actually a bad idea. He even went with half-raising a finger, but Homelander wasn't in mood for playing. He whooshed up in a blink, cratering a hole in the roof which came down in rubbles. <br/>Yeah, right. Rubbles. That was a good idea. Hughie reflected.<br/>His feet gave out as soon as Homelander was out of sight, receiving a collective protest from everyone –well, except for Kimiko, maybe-.<br/>"Hughie!" The next thing he heard was the familiar baritone voice that was urgently calling him and he opened his eyes on demand. WHAT? Butcher was looming over him, cupping his cheek with a level of tenderness that Hughie wouldn't dream of the gruff man ever possessing. Annie was close by, clutching his not-ruined hand like her life depended on it, breathing out a litany of warm sobs into his palm. <br/>He tried to answer; to reassure them that he was a fucking Supe now and they didn't need to be afraid "for" him, "of" him would do just as well from now on. But what came out instead was a mouthful of blood. He felt himself being propped up against another body, one of harder, much sturdier construct; Butcher-scale. Hughie was weightless, listing by every breeze that dared to come across the older man. None did. He puked bright red splatters of blood on the arm that was tightly wrapped around his chest, unminding of the gross sensation of somebody else's insides splashing all over them. He tried to apologize, only to be choked on "Sor" and receiving an even harder squeeze right above his heart. Lamplighter's voice tunneled through the empty corridors of his awareness.<br/>"Oh shit. We should go, now." He posed in a half-bent readiness of assistance, but Butcher clutched the kid in his mama bear grasp, even yanking his limp hand away from Annie's lips as he made him upright, lame feet pivoting on quite as many joints, depending thoroughly on the trench-coat wearing man. Then in one move, he bent down, clasping under the kid's knees and lifted him up, fireman-style. <br/>Hands, hands on him; on each and every sore nerve fiber that he possessed, which technically meant… well, all over. He whimpered his complaint; seriously, he'd had enough of touching for a lifetime, perhaps even two. He peeled off his eyelids lazily, those which automatically shuttered on their own, like doll eyes, submissive of gravity. He tried again, putting all his effort into that one single task. "Butcher" he tried to say. Homelander was right. Better leave him there right now, making it look -and feel, as much as Hughie was concerned- natural; or it would get really ugly afterwards. Maybe Butcher had not seen him going full Darth Vader, right? That would explain his not being scared out of his mind to be hugging a Supe like that. What if he… I don't know... what if he accidentally blinded the bearded man with a laser beam or something? He closed his eyes in apprehension.  Should he remind Butcher of his great opportunity to get rid of the freak brat once and for all? As if so to speak, "spanking Supes" wasn't second nature to him? "Don't talk, son." Was all he got in response. Okay; good strategy. <br/>Butcher ordered: "come on." And Hughie felt the stretch in his middle as his ancient wound got jarred from its tranquil ache. He moaned softly, sprouting even more blood from his facial orifices, gurgling on it. Butcher tilted the kid's face towards his own Hawaii button-up by gently shaking the quivering lump on his arms, readjusting the stain of blood on his own chest, as he ran for the doors, others following suit. The kid wheezed a heart-wrenching wet breath out, hacking inconsolably.<br/>"Hold on Hughie. We're getting the fuck out." Hughie nodded encouragingly, clutching Butcher's shirt in his weak fist as pain finally, blissfully put him out. <br/> MM cried out: "shiit" when he saw them stepping down the stairs to the entrance of the building and rushing towards the Van. Frenchie looked for Kimiko and sighed in relief when he found her unscathed. Well, the same couldn't be said for everyone.  One blink away he was bombarded by the awful sight of Butcher carrying petit Hughie like a bride in Jour de Mariage; the kid's limbs dangling over Butcher's handholds awkwardly. <br/>"Merde." Frenchie agreed. <br/>***<br/>They laid him on the bench seat, with Annie supporting his head on her lap; She was openly crying as the Van swerved across the road with frantic speed that was Butcher's signature in times of distress. She carded his curly locks with unsure fingers, dreading any infliction of injury on her part. His breathing was ragged, and in a couple of terrifying moments, it seemed that he stopped breathing altogether. She whispered: "You're gonna be fine, It's all right, Hughie. You're gonna be all right. And then we're gonna move out of town for a while; Leave all this shit behind us. I'm thinking a road trip, How's that?" She patted Hughie's cheek, receiving an exhale in reward as Hughie sighed in his slumber; watering the blossoms in her chest that it was not all hopeless after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So... It's quiet out there (and fluffy:p). at least for now;)<br/>Did you enjoy it?:D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Alone time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The doctors said it was a miracle, but they knew better.<br/>
When Hughie was ripped away from Butcher's arms and laid on one of ER stretchers, annoyingly enormous oxygen mask vaporizing his timid face out of sight in small ragged breaths, Butcher thought he might never see the little bugger again. Or better yet, never see him bitching over each and every one of the older man's deeds. For fuck's sake, he might as well be too far gone to reach out for, already. That, and the fact that he was caked in the kid's blood made Butcher wanting to hurl. He wouldn't though. What he could afford to do was to babble an array of lies to the doctors; starting with the kid's name: which he improvised needless of that much imagination. Lenny Ward. He reckoned he was more likely to respond to his Ex-girlfriend's surname, should Butcher was not around, should he found himself alone surrounded by a bunch of white-coated strangers. Starlight had gone for the whole "I need to be with him" stunt, resisting to leave his side, only to be pried away by compassionate tug of a husky nurse.<br/>
"Please, Ma'am. Let us do our job." He reasoned, securing Annie's wafer-thin shoulders in a tight grasp.<br/>
The British man told them that Lenny was mugged, recalling the information that Lamplighter had urgently given him on the crazy drive to the hospital before he took off with the others back to the comic shop, which soon would be his home too; at least for now.<br/>
Butcher sensed a cold creeping dread inching in around his heart by each line of his recital.<br/>
"He was tasered –he rephrased being fucking electrocuted by one of Storm-front's deadly lightning bolts, unwantedly understating the scope of kid's suffering-, head smashed to the wall for God knows how many times. And Ahm… his... his wrist. Bastards pierced his wrist with a goddamn knife."<br/>
Fuck, he was getting sick. And Starlight's cries weren't helping.<br/>
"He… ah had this wound, from a week ago. I saw 'em fuckin pickin' on it. Cunts beat the shit outa 'im too. Been vomiting blood all over the place before he passed out" He paced himself, devouring the cold breeze winding through the automated glass doors of the ER, all the while praying for a God he did not believe in that nobody recognizes their wanted-ass faces.<br/>
"All right Mr. Ward." That'd be him: Lenny's big brother. "We'll take it from here." The doctor reassured him, ushering the stretcher across the giant doors of the triage room. But apparently, Hughie had other plans. His body started convulsing violently beneath the shit-load of equipment he had got hooked into upon admission. Butcher heard Starlight gasp, crying out something about God or Jesus fucking Christ or whatever, and he heard the doctor shouting "Lorazepam, 10 mL, STAT". He was dazzled though, staring at the seizing kid whose uncomfortable complexion was barely visible under the mask, thrashing and turning, as they laid him on his uninjured side and removed the mask, his temple pinned to the makeshift bed and blood oozing out of his locked-down jaw. Butcher, the hands-on man that he was, could not do shit; so he only stared, as the horrifying view rolled away from his vain hands.<br/>
***<br/>
That was 48 hours ago.<br/>
48 hours of compulsively pacing outside the shut doors and the agony of waiting for an update on the kid. From the operating theater to the goddamn ICU and after sleeping off his coma –that word made both their hearts skip a beat- overnight, he was finally out in the ward, connected to the least tubes and wires in two days. In all those excruciating hours, doctors weren't sure if he'd make it. He had lost a good half of his blood and they had to remove his spleen and part of his intestines to stop the bleeding. Add that to his heart being fucked up by the electrical current and his kidneys being shut down; that wasn't something you recover from easily. He bounced back though; medics were clueless, but Butcher knew that if it hadn't been for the goddamn Compound V, Hughie would already be dead. Not that it made Butcher less furious over him having to go through that shit as well.</p><p>Butcher growled at the memory of listening to the glum news and leaned back in the chair that he had moved impossibly close to Hughie's bed, should the sleeping beauty woke up and needed help. Looking up at him, kid was white as his sheets, inhaling and exhaling softly in his nasal cannula.<br/>
"It's you and me again, aye mate?"<br/>
Starlight had reluctantly left for a call of duty from Vought, having had enough sense to not let the others at the seven grow suspicious on her; that was to say, if you excluded the first 2 in command who would want to waste her on sight. She was frightened out of her skin, but it was better to face them at the tower than in the hospital with Hughie lying unconscious there.<br/>
"now'd be a good time to wake up, don't ya think, son?" Butcher reached out and took the kid's uninjured hand in his much bigger one, squeezing it softly, the other being so fully wrapped up in a splint to account for the dislocations that Butcher would not even dare to get near it.<br/>
"MM called earlier. You scared the crap out of us all, Hughie." Butcher scolded daintily, brushing his thumb on the violet veins that streamed downhill to the needle irrigating the kid's strength back. "I know I've been hard on you" He whispered. "I thought I could somehow… ya know… roughen you up, makin' you be me. Well… I'm sorry. You're not like me. Fuck, 'he' wasn't like me." He snorted, head down staring at his –still- bloodied clothes; and saw the kid's blood becoming shiny, blurring away from his resolute facade.<br/>
"And when you got hurt, I just panicked. I… It's on me, Hughie. Shouldn't have pushed you away." Butcher lamented. "Should've known better what a reckless idiot you become when you feel abandoned." He chuckled, squeezing his burning eyes,.<br/>
"I'm not an idiot." Came the raspy counterargument.<br/>
Butcher's eyes shot up to the owner of the voice, not even bothering to smear the glistening liquid into his seemingly unbreakable demeanor. He was on his feet in no time, hawking over Hughie tentatively.<br/>
"How'd you feel?" Butcher asked, grasping the sheets beneath Hughie's arm, watchful of his own movements, lest it harm the fragile glass of a human being the kid was.<br/>
"Like shit?" Hughie suggested.<br/>
"Well, you've been through a ton of shit, son. No wonders." He carded the hair that had fallen down on the boy's face, right above the border of a conservative sterile gauze sticking to his temple. Butcher dismissed this gesture of affection as a mere service of a caregiver to the incapacitated by withdrawing his hand. He's not your dead little brother, He reminded himself.<br/>
"I'm not an idiot." Hughie repeated his claim goofily; by the looks of it, already on his way out into the morphine cloud oblivion.<br/>
"'course you are." Butcher argued. "look at ya." He hovered his arms over the shattered body on the bed.<br/>
"Look at you." Hughie retorted, blinking away the darkness pooling underneath his eyelids. Butcher snorted, pointing at his worn-out clothes. "No thanks to you." He protested. It wasn't quite wrong though. He hadn't slept in days worrying sick about the kid- the last time being rather an alcohol-induced slumber, not to be counted-. hadn't done quite anything unless absolutely necessary; which would only include fucking off to go piss every now and then. By right he looked like shit too. But it wouldn't matter. Hughie was awake at last and Butcher could breathe again.<br/>
"Ah don't worry about me. I'm sorted." He reassured him, looking to find the smallest hint of ease in his cyan eyes. He didn't. Hughie stared back at him with his perpetual jittery orbs, putting so much effort into the small task of keeping his eyelids open.<br/>
"get some sleep." Butcher ordered. But Hughie was much of a stubborn cunt to listen.<br/>
"No. No. I… Butcher, Is everyone all right? Annie… Annie, is she all right?" Fuck. He was starting to hyperventilate, his blood pressure skyrocketing on the screen above his head.<br/>
"She's FINE. Jeez. Calm down." He patted the kid's knee, willing him to relax.<br/>
"Oh my god, did I hurt anyone? Am I… am I gonna turn into some kind of… I dunno know…monster... monster freak? like like like Homelander?" He wailed, trying to push himself up, grinding his teeth as the movement made his hardly held in place ribs pierce the flesh.<br/>
"Hughie… Hughie…" Butcher screamed, trying to hold down the skinny boy without jarring any one of his wounds; and judging by the yelps of pain, he wasn't very good at that, calming effects not being his strong suit and all. He yelled at the nurse station behind the half-shut door. "somebody help me." Hughie thrashed in the confines of Butcher's protective arms, punching him with the strength of a kitten. Butcher's heart melted by the sight. The kid had been through a literal actual hell for days and he had outdone himself; fuck, even defeating Home-fucking-lander, and now he was back in the childishly naïve body of his, not having enough strength to even leave a bruise on the older man; and oh, meanwhile he believed that he was evil? What a truck of bullshit.<br/>
Was Butcher happy that the pyromaniac cunt had non-consensually dosed Hughie with their own goddamn freaky heroin –pun very much intended-? No.<br/>
Could he complain of the shit saving the kid's life? Fuck no.<br/>
Maybe his judgment was clouded, fuck him. but at the time, he had run out of shit to give to the fact that only thing, the only one too pure for them to have around, the only one not yet tainted by the humorous atrocity of living a blowup doll's life in Vought's clutches, in Homelander's, was just yanked away from his hands in the most dreadful ways of all. The regret felt superfluous now. Anything short of the spiking heartbeats on the small monitor on the wall felt superfluous.<br/>
He heard the door swinging open noisily and two nurses rushing in, one of them carrying a needle, with which she pricked Hughie-well, as far as she was concerned, Lenny-'s arm, waiting for the instantaneous effect.<br/>
Butcher encouraged him. "Just sleep for now, will ya? We'll sort it out when you're all better." Hughie's thrashes became more erratic by the second, eyelids drooping. "Butcher." He slurred, letting go of the man's button-up in stages; not that he had a say in doing so. The kid was out cold before his head even grazes the pillow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sweet, ha? I think I'm gonna make this comfort thing last for a while. so don't you worry if it's in small doses;P<br/>Butcher-Hughie interactions are my personal favorite;) what's yours?;)<br/>I'd absolutely love to read your thoughts XXX</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hughie woke up in a few hours, finding Butcher dozed off on his leather chair, feet stretched across the footboard of Hughie's white-sheeted bed, snoring softly. He smiled despite himself. He had never seen the big guy while sleeping. Actually, It had never occurred to him that he too, might be capable of doing that sort of human-ish things. Butcher looked almost… peaceful when he wasn't continually being a dick. Well, according to his scrambled head, the older man's "not being a dick" quality probably had been long expired by then.<br/>
He remembered Butcher hovering over him, weeping out his name and he remembered himself wondering in the pain-free hands of hemorrhagic shock; what the fuck? that was too much soft, too much expressive for the man he knew. Which made him ask: How grotesquely battered he looked to elicit that kind of care from Butcher? Butcher, who had left them- left him- for dead. So, what changed? He remembered being carried like the way he did when he was 6 and his dad would carry him to his bed from in front of the TV. That was around the time his mom had left; so, he was unexpectedly privileged with an indefinite stretch of curfew. With which he'd always ended-up passing out half-way through the 'adults' programs.<br/>
Hughie yelped in pain as he wiggled his way up beneath the sheets to a more seated position than his sore inclined view; receiving an instantaneous reaction from the sleeping man.<br/>
"Hughie?" Butcher asked groggily, rising up.<br/>
Hughie gulped down the pain. His throat felt like raw beef and there was a nagging ache in his middle underneath the cold thin hospital gown, which he would not dare to look at. He was well-sedated this time though; his lazy muscles marking the smallest attempts of moving as "Too much, not at all cost-effective".<br/>
"You with me this time?" Butcher grunted. Hughie raised an eyebrow to indicate his being oblivious of being "with" or "without" anyone.<br/>
"You woke up a few times, been running a fever of 41. you ain't remembering, are ya?" Butcher explained matter-of-factly.<br/>
"I remember you… holdin' me?" Hughie asked, putting extra exclamation points on his incredulous scowl.<br/>
"Nah, you sure were wool-gatherin', son." Butcher dismissed the accusation with a snort, despite putting his palm gently on where seemed to be the kid's knee beneath the sheets.<br/>
Hughie smiled knowingly. "Ahm, where are the others?" He frowned at the florescent lights, blocking the antiseptic brightness with his hand. Butcher looked at him with vehement pity.<br/>
"You want me to turn it off, aye?" He inquired.<br/>
"No I'm fine." The kid answered. Exhibitionarily expectant.<br/>
"They're sorted. But I reckon ya mean Starlight. Well, she's on a mission." Butcher rolled his eyes, trying to mentally avoid the conversation. Huh, fool's paradise.<br/>
"A mission?" Hughie assessed the explanation with as much scrutiny as he could muster in spite of the rising pressure in his side. He would ask for more morphine if he wasn't worried sick at the moment.<br/>
"Yeah. A mission." Butcher repeated. "Vought's business; but don't you worry about her, she can handle herself all right."<br/>
"No she CAN'T!" Hughie objected, attempting on getting out of the confines of his heavy blankets, all the while biting his lower lip to subdue his whimpers.<br/>
"Hey hey hey, where the fuck ya think ya're goin'?" Butcher grasped the kid's arm, blocking out his feeble squirms.<br/>
"She's in trouble, Butcher. What if they… what if Homelander…?" He looked pleadingly into the gruff man's eyes, imploring his permission. He could help her; now that he was boosted with Compound V, more than ever.<br/>
"Have ya looked at yourself, hey?" Butcher was fuming. "Ya're fucked up Hughie. It took 'em 6 hours, 6 fucking' hours to sew ya up and It wasn't after they removed your goddamn entrails altogether. Ya seized, Hughie. Fucking seized right in front of us; flat out exorcism horseshit convulsions and ya were in a coma for fuck's sake. They had to shock ya back to restart your sorry electrocuted heart. Ya stayin' in the fuckin' bed." The older man growled, witnessing the melt-down of the kid beneath the weight of his beratement.<br/>
"Okay." He resigned timidly. "Sorry."<br/>
Butcher grimaced his acceptance of the apology with a softer demeanor.<br/>
"But…" Hughie started.<br/>
"Well mate, listen. Homelander can do shit to the American Beauty, aye? Not with his own arse on the line. Besides, what'd ya think the world thinks if he just smites a fellow Supe as hyped as your dear Barbie girlfriend, huh? Ya'd dodged that bullet once, all right. But I ain't gonna let you push your fuckin' luck, son. Understood?" Butcher pushed him back and laid his head on the pillow. Hughie nodded sheepishly, abiding the benevolent threat.<br/>
"Good boy." Butcher encouraged with a crooked smile.<br/>
A Couple of minutes of awkward silence, and it was Hughie who finally brought it up to light. "It wasn't a one-time thing, you know that, right?" Butcher frowned.<br/>
"I mean my… the effects of Compound V. I remember its high; for more occasions than I'd like to think." He saw Butcher baring his teeth with anger. He added quickly. "I'm fine though. The point is… I'm changed. I'm a… a Supe now" He eyed Butcher for his reaction, anticipating nothing less of disgust on his face; what he saw instead was pure sorrow, which was weird. "Only good Supe's a dead Supe, huh?" He caught himself saying that loud. Oops.<br/>
"Nah, it ain't." Butcher grunted and faced away from him, busying himself with peeking out of the blinds to the hospital's yard.<br/>
"Butcher?" Hughie tried.<br/>
"Wot?" still not facing him.<br/>
"That's okay." All right, that pushed the rugged man over the edge; Butcher turned towards him. "What's OKAY?"<br/>
"You wanting me dead? Well, I'd want me dead" Hughie shrugged.<br/>
"And why's that?" Butcher's voice was hard, polishing away Hughie's competence of coming up with an allegedly profound remark. He instead looked at the man with a docile expression on his pale face.<br/>
"Jesus, do ya even hear yourself?" Butcher was incredulous.<br/>
"Why is it any different? Why would… I… be any different?" Hughie's voice was barely a whisper, as if wishing to pop out from the bull's eye of Butcher's furious gaze by the sheer force of his composure; which of course only made Butcher more rabid than ever.<br/>
"What the everlovin' fuck is this all about, Hughie, huh?" He closed the space between them, looming over the kid, frustrated as fuck. "First, going on headfirst facing Homelander by your own. Then running to him to fucking bring off his unfinished business; now this? Do you have a fucking death wish or something, he?" He spat poison. For all its worth, he'd punch the kid right there and then if the poor boy wasn't just back from the death's door.<br/>
"Would it matter if I had?" Hughie blurted out, immediately hiding himself from Butcher's imminent glare by looking at his own splinted wrist. He hadn't tried to move it really; having already enough on his plate to not wish messing around with a bunch of crushed bones on top of all that.<br/>
"Don't you dare Hughie!" Butcher warned, feeling his heart squeeze by the invisible strands of each of the kid's timid peeks thrown at him.<br/>
However, Butcher's threats never had before worked on the kid. "The only thing that I had was you; this. As pathetic as it sounds." Hughie chuckled. Butcher was reminded of another time, another saying: "what does any of us have, besides…" filling the blanks in 3, 2, 1 heartbeats; besides EACH OTHER.<br/>
"The boys who don't need Superpowers to do the right thing. And now… I don't have that either." Hughie sighed shallowly, minding of his sore ribs, looking up at Butcher. "I know you can never trust me again, and Jesus, you have every right not to. I understand. Really, you'd be doing me a fav-"<br/>
"My brother shot himself." Butcher interrupted his blabber and Hughie fell silent; which was a fairly good sign. William didn't know if he could bear listening to the kid's heart-wrenching appeals of being put out for any longer."<br/>
"Lenny?" Hughie asked. He vaguely remembered the nurses calling him 'Lenny' after the surgery; He was too out of it to put two and two together back then. Now it seemed kind of obvious.<br/>
Butcher ignored the kid's question; having already guessed that Judy had ratted him out on their alone time back at her house, when they were waiting for Black Noir's attack.<br/>
"I found him with his brains splashed on the walls." Butcher growled. "I coulda stopped 'im if I weren't a coward. But I ran. I left 'im. Fuck me, I wasn't even in the state when he pulled the goddamn trigger."<br/>
Silence. Hughie clenched his eyes, dumbfounded. "Butcher, it wasn-"<br/>
"My fault?" Butcher's tone was ominous. He huffed. "Yeah, I'll be telling myself that till the day I go out."<br/>
"I'm sorry." Hughie chewed on his lip.<br/>
"Are ya?" Butcher snapped, eyeing him seriously, but gently. Hughie nodded.<br/>
"But If I ever do something…" He grimaced. The aching was at its highest since he got stabbed. Shit. He was going to need a lot more painkillers. "If I ever become something… that I'm not…"<br/>
"I'll stop you." Butcher promised dismissively, wanting nothing more than a splash of freezing water, numbing his strained face. "if I can."<br/>
"No matter the cost" Hughie set the rules; nearly crying out as the effect of his last fix continued to wear off by each second.<br/>
"I'll bring the nurse." Butcher headed out.<br/>
"Butcher." Hughie's pained voice followed him. "Promise me… Ahh… that you… you won't hesitate."<br/>
Butcher looked back at the kid in the hospital bed, who was deliriously pleading that Butcher ends him, should he turned bad. He was afraid, all right. If Hughie could do what he did to Homelander, making the America's big savior look like a joke, what else was he capable of? But It was Hughie! The geeky boy who screamed when he was shooting a gun, the guy who listened to Billy Joel for fuck's sake. How could Billy Joel ever have anything to do with becoming a cunt Supe like Homelander? Butcher shook his head.<br/>
"All right lad. I promise I'll end you, no matter what the cost. Now let me bring you some help. Will ya?" He rolled his eyes, leaving the kid to nod at the empty room.<br/>
***<br/>
Morphine made Hughie quite sleepy; which meant no more sacrificing himself talk horseshit. But the brat still had other requests:<br/>
"Butcher?" He found the wrinkled face of his companion after a series of failed trials of irritated blinks. "Go home. Sleep for a while. I'll be all right." He tried to sound reassuring, but his slurred speech begged to differ.<br/>
"Yeah. Brilliant idea. Why don't I just dump ya here and fuck off to the sunset. Perhaps someone shows up and adopts ya" He grunted sarcastically.<br/>
Hughie rolled his eyes, squeezing them back to the status zero. "Somebody… else could take… take over. Call MM. have… have you called MM?" He stammered tiredly.<br/>
Actually, Butcher did call MM; having reassured him -and the others- of Hughie's healing process, but turned down their insistence of showing up, saying it was dangerous enough to be sneaking into a hospital in Pennsylvania, right under Vought's nose; let alone flashing all their asses to the staff. MM had suspected if he had at all slept, judging by his wary voice on the phone; which in response elicited an array of terms of endearment from the British man.<br/>
"Yeah. They ain't comin'. We gotta keep a low profile, son." Butcher explained softly. Hughie was unconvinced.<br/>
"I could call your old man if ya…" Butcher suggested.<br/>
"No, I'm good." Hughie interrupted him quickly. Oh, Fuck No. The last thing he needed was his dad fretting over him, while having absolutely no idea of the real trouble that ran deep in the shit pile.<br/>
"Well, then you're stuck with me." He sneered, watching as the kid's shy smile gradually faded into sweet oblivion.<br/>
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
"Please get back in the cage."</p><p>"I'm not getting back in that cage, man. I do, I am dead."</p><p>"Yeah, well, if you don't... you're dead."</p><p>"Just think. You kill me, they'll never stop looking for you. You'll be glancing over your shoulder your whole life till they find you, which they will. Look, you let me go... you'll be the hero that saved Translucent. It's not too late. You can still go home. Back to your life."</p><p>Silence.</p><p>"Attaboy."</p><p>white noise.</p><p>Storm-front removed the headphone with a crooked smile on her face. She stealthily slipped the USB stick in the pocket of her backpack, peeking out in the corridor to the archive room. She had gone to the trouble of a cumbersome BDSM session with one of the assholes in the Records Department –as if that was a thing- to get her hands on this classified recording on Translucent's chip right before his demise. Of course she could have gotten it by means of sheer intimidation; but she had thought to herself: fuck it. That would be fun. Only If she knew that the maggot would start crying in less than 10 minutes, she would have crushed his stinky skull much earlier.<br/>
Looking on the bright side, she had all she needed. So the prick –according to Homelander's curt explanation for the shit-show in the facility right before he took off, not even chastising her for keeping secrets- had escaped from Sage Grove. Then what? How was he going to run from THIS in the condition she had left him? She smirked thinking of the havoc this short recording would cause. Folks out there were going to be more than thrilled to be let loose on bringing Translucent's killer to justice, wherever the fuck they were. There was no way Star-whore could protect her little pet this time; come to think of it; it was only fitting.<br/>
Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a girl. Her name was Klara; Klara Risinger. She fell in love with a man. A strong man; a perfect man. He showed her the world, made her strong like himself. But O' Fredrick, if you knew the price she'd have to pay for her immortality. She had to watch Fredrick perish right in front of her eyes; rejecting to take his self-devised remedy. Klara lost him, and THAT WAS NOT FAIR. She had to bury Fredrick, telling herself that this was how it was meant to be. That no Supe could ever love a mortal human, not even if they're as magnificent as Fredrick Vought. It felt just right to teach that bitch the same lesson. But that was then.<br/>
Now, Starlight had made her kill Fredrick's Great Grandson, and oh boy, she was going to pay for that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>All right. I'm getting back to being cruel:))<br/>I still owe you a bunker scene with our other "boys" -Lamplighter included, of course!- and oh, don't forget about Starlight's "secret mission";) I know, I know. I'm being a little slow in these chapters. But I think it's worth the effort to squeeze your hearts for a while;)<br/>So... what did you think? How're your hearts doing?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Wanted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back baby😈<br/>I'm gonna leave this here, cause I'm like... super-busy at the moment. But the itch was just impossible to overcome without writing this chapter. So... I hope it's not really that awful?:D<br/>Let me know what you think:*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Here, this is your spot." Frenchie offered Lamplighter a half-broken rolling chair and a mattress at one corner of the basement which he had moved from some darker, nastier avenues of their alleged "home", and to which the retired Supe nodded in silent gratitude. He was still wearing Sage Grove's uniform. That, the French man had to devise something for, as well.<br/>
"Make yourself at home." Frenchie added, rubbing the back of his neck hesitantly. It's not like they were all square now, that Mallory's grandchildren had somehow been Lazarus-ed merely by their shared good intentions. Frenchie, for all intents and purposes, wished he could dump all the blame on the motherfucker and call it a day; however it was not that simple. He had fucked up too. The fact that Lamplighter didn't know about his victims, made Frenchie even more to blame. That meant that he could have stopped him just by showing up, by not leaving his fucking post, that he would not be blasted to a pile of charcoal anyway if he so much as intervened.<br/>
That, and the fact that Mr. Pyromaniac there had literally saved petit Hughie's life, made the situation much murkier than Frenchie hoped for.<br/>
"Thanks." Lamplighter replied timidly, stroking the chair's backbone into a full round for good measure. "How's the kid?" He asked, changing the nonverbal subject of their once implicated companionship. It was nothing short of mean retorts and sarcastic remarks on the face of it, but it was 'something' nonetheless. All those times that Lamplighter handed over rapports of the Seven directly to the French man, he came to believe that not all Supes were total dicks. It was the very rationale for his tolerance with Kimiko, back when she was a ruthless killing machine; remnants of a shattered trust, you could call it.<br/>
"Butcher said petit Hughie's out of the woods. In rough shape, yes. But he'll live." Frenchie tittered.<br/>
"Good." Lamplighter acknowledged with an adamant nod. "So, we'll just wait, then?"<br/>
"Oui." Frenchie agreed with a shadow of a smile.<br/>
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Butcher was bored out of his mind.<br/>
Not that he wished to go through the roller-coaster of emotions of the last couple of days ever again in his fucked-up life, but sitting idly on his bum on the hospital's sweaty leather chair and doing diddly squat? That was just something he did not have a lot of experience in.<br/>
The kid was in and out throughout the night, mercifully allowing Butcher to sneak out and take a scalding shower in the staff room, washing away Hughie's blood off his skin with unnecessary revolt. The lad was over the hump now. Butcher closed his eyes at that thought to gain composure, hearing the muffled sizzling of hot water on his bare skin. The boy… fuck. He'd be the death of him; that one he could count on. Not that it was all the same from the day one. Sure, he had felt for him the first time he laid eyes on him; being victimized by the same cunts that had taken Becca from the older man and all; also the kid had this resting distraught face that stroke a chord deep in Butcher's being; one that he was not actively aware of having in possession.<br/>
But it had become more than that over time.<br/>
He wasn't consciously aware of it then, but having hearing the actual articulated words from MM made it sealed on his very soul, like a verdict of the jury. Hughie was, in fact his Canary, or thermostat or whatever the fuck you'd like to call him. He had this strong willpower of catching Butcher right over the edge. He would always have… until he wouldn't.<br/>
Butcher dug his thumbs into the back of his pinched eyelids. The kid was getting better, all right? He wasn't vomiting his guts out all over the place or boiling his noggin in sweaty delirium as he did last night. And more importantly, he wasn't luring Butcher into making impossible vows.<br/>
Not that it was even close to his first time lying –and in a way, the lad must have known that too, unless he wouldn't have made a fuss out of it all- Butcher being Butcher, always having a shitload of tricks up in his sleeve, but THIS? This was flat-out betrayal to Hughie. The kid had only allowed Butcher to help him pass out from the pain when he had made sure of the old man's death threat. What happened to not crossing the line, he? Well, fuck the birds. Supe or no Supe, the kid was not going down before him. He'd make sure of that.<br/>
Hughie was still out cold when he seated himself on his habitual hawk nest of a watch, tossing and turning the remote control of the small TV screen on the farthest wall with delightful anticipation of some pastime. The clothes he had worn were unwilling souvenirs from some wanker three floors down who –much to his impending regret- happened to have left them unattended in the changing room. Light blue checkered shirt was way off his style, but nevertheless much more comfortable than his own bloodied, sweat-drenched suit. He lowered down the volume and rummaged absent-mindedly through the channels, scowling at the shitty content. "Bullocks" he whispered and rolled his eyes, pressing his fingers on the innocent keys with savage inattention.<br/>
He briskly turned his head towards Hughie, who groaned quietly in his slumber. Was he in pain? Or was it another nightmare? Should he wake him up? Butcher fisted the sheets to contain his rage. It ain't right. He had to go out there and seek revenge, like he always did; with Becca. With Lenny. It wouldn't matter whether if there were actually somebody to condemn or if it was wooden furniture or some liquor store that'd take a beating. But THIS… all the nursing the baby bullshit as if he were some fucking Granny while he watched the kid suffer, It just wasn't written on his Brochure.<br/>
"Reports from an unknown source confirms that this man, namely Hugh Campbell, had actually been behind Translucent's ambiguous death. This individual who is one of the members of the terrorist group…"<br/>
WHAT THE FUCK? It took him five attempts or so to believe his ears and tear his eyes off the aforementioned kid. Butcher increased the volume just enough to catch the wanted notice on the TV, his body marinated in his own cold sweat.<br/>
All that poor excuse of a worry from a moment ago? Thrown out of the window. Butcher didn't hear the rest of the announcement. By right, he didn't hear anything, except for his own blood rushing in his temples. "Oh fuck me." On the screen, as if taunting him from the ivory palace of a non-existent God, there was a mirror image –well, not so much- of the kid sleeping across the room, though very much awake and much less gaunt, captured from a CCTV footage and on top of the picture, there was a number and a command.<br/>
1-888-0-crimes<br/>
Whoever brings down justice on this highly dangerous criminal, whether DEAD OR ALIVE receives 200k in reward.<br/>
Butcher didn't waste a breath and called MM.<br/>
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"Kid… hey. Wake up."<br/>
Hughie opened his eyes sluggishly. Straight up, blissfully silhouetting the angry fluorescent lights was MM's burly face decorated with a look of blatant compassion down at him. Jesus, one hell of a sight to wake up to.<br/>
"Hey." MM greeted softly, to which Hughie answered with a confused scowl. Was it a dream? No, No. it couldn't be; dreams were supposed to be pain-free, right?<br/>
"wha…" He croaked. Fuck. Talking was a bad idea, much like –essentially- anything else.<br/>
"We gotta go." MM explained solemnly as he unattached the wires of electrodes that monitored Hughie's heart. The machine started wailing bloody murder, but MM unplugged it before it could draw any attention from the dozed off nurses down at the station. He must have read the fear in the kid's complexion, because he stopped in his tracks and grabbed Hughie's shoulder gently.<br/>
"Look. I ain't gonna hurt you, okay? I promise I ain't some fucked up nightmare, either. It's just that the hospital's no longer safe for you, so we need to fuck off. Just… just work with me here, will you?"<br/>
Hughie wanted to point out that it was exactly what a nightmare cast member would say. Instead, he spared himself the effort of making jokes and asked the much more important question.<br/>
"Butche-?"<br/>
"Downstairs, stealing drugs for you. Don't worry about 'im now. Can you haul yourself up a little bit so I can put your clothes on?" He asked naturally, as if changing Hughie into his clothes was his everyday chore. He tore the medical tape holding Hughie's Angiocath together, and drew out the needle, eliciting a hiss from the young man. The kid nodded in adamancy despite how fucked up he sounded.<br/>
"I'll do it myself." He coughed the words out. MM eyed him over with uncertainty in the sense of competence, though lastly complied with the kid's appeal for a sliver of dignity. He handed him over a pair of hoodie and jeans as well as his favorite jade jacket which he had fetched from their bunker upon Butcher's request. Hughie took them and whispered a thanks, using the space MM gave him to change into his clothes.<br/>
Ah shit. Now that he could see the source of the nagging pain in his middle, namely the big ugly vertical incision on his abdomen from top to bottom, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, or so he thought. Butcher had mentioned something about a Surgery, right? One that included him being eviscerated 6 times? Or was it 6 viscera they had to take out? Noooo, no; that was too much of a number for as much alive –and subsequently achy- as he felt. He finally decided it was better if he didn't think and instead stuck to disguising himself as one not-in-dire-need-of-medical-care.<br/>
When Butcher arrived, carrying a big plastic bag in one hand and a mischievous look of recently-committed felony on another eyebrow, he found Hughie sitting on the edge of the bed, in his usual geeky clothes, still a bit out of it, sure, slumped towards wherever the waves of slumber navigated him, but it might be as well a month ago when none of that shit had happened and they were just heading out of Judy's house. Stoicism be damned, Butcher couldn't help keeping his hands off of the kid. He grabbed the lad's shoulder in a tight grasp, shaking the thought of him being battered -well, Fuck William Butcher sideways- being dead by the liveliness of that actual physical contact. Hughie smiled timidly and braced himself to take off the support that the soft sheets generously had provided him for days; which naturally didn't go as planned. Butcher caught him mid-collapse and helped him take a few wobbly steps away from the bed and towards the door.<br/>
"It's fine." He reeled, grasping the bedpost and letting go of Butcher's arm, panting away the meager amount of exertion that felt like a thousand pounds on top of his tight chest. Butcher, though, did not let go.<br/>
"Time to leave." Butcher ordered, as he dragged the lanky lad with him.<br/>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
MM had rented them an anonymous Toyota, on the backseat of which he propped the still dazed kid with extra caution that was his signature of –as Annie had called it- OCD. Hughie woozily recalled their sweet conversation at the vending machine that took place somewhere along one or two million years ago and pressed his healthy temple on the pleasantly cool glass of his side's window, exhaling a relieved sigh.<br/>
Butcher had nested on the passenger seat in front, so that he could check on Hughie on his wing mirror, the job he had apparently taken so seriously, considering how he was staring at their incapacitated –yet potentially badass- refugee for nearly the whole ride. The lad looked white as a chalk, but apart from that, better than he'd seen him in days. Butcher, the felon that he was, had harvested the drug-store mostly for painkillers, though some antibiotics and anti-emetics were slipped in his sleeve as well. If they weren't enough and the lad ended-up deteriorating, Butcher had no fucking idea what he'd do.<br/>
It wasn't like dozens of wankers from the staff hadn't already thrown their goddamn suspicious glances at them, as if trying to recall a heaven-sent duty to exterminate them all whether or not they had seen the announcement–or god forbid- arrest Hughie and take him to Vought, again. It wasn't like they hadn't had to sneak out from the fucking balcony quite impossibly considering how uncooperative torture victims could get in recasting Prison Break. The bottom line: Hospital was not an option; neither was anywhere with crowds. Whatever it took, they had to take care of the lad themselves. Maybe… just maybe Mallory could shelter them, so that they wouldn't have to worry about the kid developing an infection from their rat-reviewed sanitary environment at the base. But at the moment, it was out of question as well.<br/>
45, in red. Fucking traffic lights. Butcher brushed off the frets, letting them pile up in his mind for further notice and rolled up his window, eyeing the perimeter vigilantly. It was a pretty dull landscape; Weary civilians waiting for the lights to go green, so that they could get back to their small pathetic lives. MM had started tapping on the steering wheel in clear demonstration of agitated impatience. Butcher looked in the mirror. Hughie had pulled the hood of his clothing forward and was shying away from the window. Smart. Butcher approved the kid's gut reflex with a nod.<br/>
35. MM rewarded a nosy stare from a 5-year-old on his left with a fatherly demeanor, who had bent over the half-down glass and dangled her elbows in the cold sunlight. Butcher rolled his eyes.<br/>
25. Butcher heard a whimper and nearly jumped out of the car. But Hughie raised his hand, signaling his well-being. He must have jarred his mistreated abdomen while trying to readjust himself head down and away from the plain sight. MM continued on tapping.<br/>
5. MM put his right hand on the gear stick, ready. Butcher repeated his once over, counting the cunts he had met in their purgatorial trip. MM pushed on the accelerator pedal and the car jumped forward, sending them all back in the black waters of inertia. Black. Butcher had seen black. For less than a millisecond he saw a masked face behind some wheels on their right, heading straight towards them. He tried to word the ninja cunt's name, to warn the others; to warn Hughie. But it was too late for much of anything other than cherishing his brief melancholic horror. Had Vought sent the cunt to finish the job? Nah…Nah. over his dead body, Butcher promised. But then again, that was the very reason he had to evade the collision. He couldn't afford to pass out now, not with Hughie in the backseat, giddy as he was, unprotected; like a lamb to the slaughter. Butcher heard himself roar. That should do the trick, aye? That's how those cunts uttered their battle cry. That's how they mustered their goddamn Superhuman strength to surmount the unfortunate chain of calamities.<br/>
Seemingly Supe-exclusive, it didn't work for him. The last thing Butcher heard was the sound of the shards of glass spraying on his face as the impact knocked him out cold.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Diabolical, right?😈<br/>comments and kudos are very much appreciated</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Black Noir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even If he had blacked out, it must have been a quick nap.</p><p>Hughie reflected as he listened to the sirens. Too loud. Too divulging. It was as if he was lying flat inside a targeted military submarine, waiting for the automated snipe. Speaking of which...</p><p>"Butcher?" He rasped, putting his weight on his non-broken wrist for support. The car had folded on itself like a cardboard box. So, right and left were kind of warped, so was the way out. Fan-fucking-tastic.</p><p>"MM?" He called out again. The only answer being the sound of the car flasher and wailing of a siren nearby. He felt something hot running down his face as he angled his spine so that he was leaning on what used to be the left-sided door, now crinkled like a waste paper.</p><p>Oh great. Just fucking great! He smeared blood on his palm. Now he had a bilateral concussion, yay! He wouldn't be surprised if –and that was the best-case scenario- he walked out of his seemingly eternal ordeal as a vegetable.</p><p>"Butcher." He begged the unmoving silhouette of his companion in the front seat, dripping urgency in his wheezing tone. He couldn't see MM. He tried to reach for the big guy by stretching out the tip on his fingers; though to no avail.</p><p>He cried out from the pain as he tried and failed to wriggle his arm onto the foremost compartment of the wreck. "Jesus. Please. Butcher, MM, come on. Wake up" None of them obliged to his appeal, and he ended up panting breathlessly by the sheer effort. </p><p>He was completely fucking alone.<br/>
Or not. </p><p>Just as he stopped to think about the idea of "what the fuck happened?", the answer showed himself in the distorted frame of his shattered window; namely the once-pleasantly-cold one, that then had turned traitor and had knifed him with its splinters.</p><p>The driver unmounted himself off a gigantic truck in his uniformed black suit. Wow, fuck. That made sense. Hughie choked on his horror as he watched Black Noir walking straight towards them with absolute leisure, as if on a fucking catwalk.</p><p>"Butcher, wake up." He squeaked as he wrestled with the wrinkled door handle by his one working hand, begging it to give in to his bumping his already bruised arm against the metal. Come on, Come on. Come ON!</p><p>Solid facts: Even if he somehow managed to escape from the other side of the crashed car, he didn't have anywhere to go and besides, he had to get the other two to get up and get the fuck out of the ditch. </p><p>However, when a Supe's coming at you, you'd better keep your distance, and so he pushed on the used-to-be door.</p><p>Wait. He was a Supe too, right? He had been so used to starring as the punch bag –well, ''The" punch bag- in the fights that it never occurred to him what it meant to have powers. Sure, he had somehow stopped Homelander from throwing him into a metaphorical meat grinder. But back then he was on an OD and wasn't really in control of his body or what he was doing. </p><p>So… How is it working then? You concentrate on your target, reach out your hand and let the V do the rest? Was that it?  </p><p>And even if he did, then what? Vought would keep sending people to kill him and they sure wouldn't stop until Homelander personally bathed in his guts. That only meant more blood on his hands. Innocents' blood. What if MM was badly injured at that very moment, bleeding out, never getting to see his family again?</p><p>And Butcher?</p><p>The old man might have been good at keeping promises –especially when it came to, as Homelander had put it, nuking baby Supes-, though that was to say if he didn't become a collateral damage himself prior to any act of euthanistic murder. No. He could not let that happen. Not after everything.</p><p>Butcher still had someone out there. He still had his wife, however unyielding to his blind faithfulness she might be. He wasn't a misfit, "the" misfit, not by any means comparable to Hughie who had literally no-one –Annie would argue otherwise, but he knew better that his very existence was a threat to her life, he could see it now, clear as day-.</p><p>And above all that, Butcher wasn't the one who unwillingly, excruciatingly had turned into the very thing that he fervently despised. He sure could go on with his life without one whiny pathetic -was this what Butcher had called him?- Baby-Supe.  </p><p>Ugh, Black Noir's magnifying march, the stench of gasoline, regretfully, back to the present. Hughie didn't get to say his goodbyes to the sleeping men as the cold sun flooded inside and assaulted his pale glassy eyes. Being the drama queen that he was according to Butcher's name-calling battle blueprints, Hughie sobbed as he stared at the very man who had given him a motive to live for, despite it blowing up in his face at the end anyway. </p><p>Black Noir had spared him the effort of extraction by tearing away the –sadly wrong- door, sending it hurling across the street. </p><p>Hughie tore his eyes off Butcher's slumped figure and faced the Supe. Gulping down the thick taste of dried horror down his writhing Adam's apple.<br/>
"Okay. Listen. I'll come with you. You… you can take me to Homelander or or or whoever wants to jump my bones or whatever. I'm coming willingly. Just leave them alone. All right?" He raised his hands in surrender, wincing at the shooting pain running an agonizing marathon all the way down his splintered forearm. </p><p>Black Noir cocked his head, as if actually considering the suggestion. </p><p>Hughie looked across the smashed car to find Butcher twitching ever so slightly, groaning as he slowly woke up. Thank GOD, he was alive. He was alive. </p><p>The next thing he knew, he was being dragged by Black Noir who had grasped one of his ankles right above where jeans met his bloodied converse shoe and pulled him out, throwing him face-first onto the asphalt as if on a ''throwing the hammer" contest. </p><p>Hughie couldn't help but cry out in pain as his body collided hard with the ground in the middle of the cross street, probably breaking multiple ribs and severing stitches; His splint getting plowed out somewhere along his unfortunate trip, so was the idle sleeve of his green jacket which was up to the point -before it got torn in half by Black Noir's inhuman force- hanging loosely over his too-wrapped-up-to-fit-in arm. </p><p>Damn. What a spectacle he made. He could almost viscerally feel the eyes –and of course flashes of the cameras- on his heaving chest. Their little showdown right at the heart of Manhattan was going to be a –as Butcher would call it- diabolical trend real soon. Huh, never had imagined fame being like THIS.   </p><p>Hughie coughed hard and disconsolate, somehow unable to catch his breath as he writhed on the ground in search of Oxygen. Black Noir paraded over him in a semicircle and then halfway across, he broke off his pace, considered the allegedly insignificant bug at his feet for a moment and democratically decided to kick him hard in his flank so that he was once again lying on his back, choking noisily. </p><p>And if that was not thorough of a life-long experience on suffocation, Black Noir landed on top of him, placing each knee on either side of his scrawny body and locking both his glove-cladded hands on Hughie's neck, squeezing hard. </p><p>Hughie thrashed feebly as he panicked at his windpipe closing shut completely. No air coming in, and absolutely none getting out; he tried to pry the tight grip around his neck with one flailing hand, which of course looked –and felt- ridiculously helpless.  </p><p>Yep. That was what he was going for in the first place, right? Surrendering himself so that the others could live. He just hoped that Butcher came to in time to save his and MM's asses. </p><p>On many grounds, it wasn't that bad. He thought as he felt his insides squeezing themselves out of the way for his very consciousness to escape the room.<br/>
It could have even been overlooked as him being granted with the privilege of his death being quick. Not that the ninja Supe was helping with the 'quick' part as he sadistically readjusted the pressure so that every now and then Hughie could devour a mouthful of acid air. </p><p>But seriously, when he had decided to surrender, he had pictured Storm-front's endless torture sessions relying solely on his very much vivid memories. And he was okay with that, as long as it meant everyone else's safety.</p><p>This… at least he wouldn't be violated more than he already had been. He only wished that he could see Annie one last time, who he hadn't seen in his conscious hours for days –that was if you excluded the Doppelganger's contribution in his psychological torture-. A last goodbye would be nice. Poetic, even.</p><p>Then again, since when did he get what he wanted? For starters, he had wanted a happy life with Robin, and look where that got him.</p><p>His limp hand let go of the iron wrist bruising his larynx shut and he stared beyond the black mask of his adamant murderer; beyond that very moment, up in the sky, and he actually saw birds.</p><p>Being reminded of Mallory's "looking at fucking birds" lecture of remote centuries with his last dribbles of oxygen, as if his mind was fusing some cut wires together only to show him that specific memory, he would have huffed at her appealing Butcher not to drag the others –namely Hugh Campbell- to their doom. And the reason it felt funny at the moment was that he'd never regret being dragged into this shit. </p><p>Among all the gore and bloody entrails, Hughie had found something; He had found what he was meant to do. What he COULD do and not be an insignificant passive wanker his dad hoped he'd become. Well, going viral while being strangulated by one of the Seven, THAT surely could be chalked up as fucking significant! Not that notoriety was his original aim, or being dead; or being dead notoriously, have your pick.</p><p>He felt himself floating above the ground as his cells were shutting the doors and losing the key one by one. Darkness was invading his visual field as his thrashes became weaker and weaker by each second.</p><p>Just as his eyes fluttered back off the sky for the presumably last time, He heard a furious roar in the distance. One that promised the blessing of an exhale.<br/>
He gave in to the darkness nonetheless.</p><p>Before he knew it, the weight on his chest was gone and he could breathe again –not sure if he remembered how to, though-. Of which, he took quite advantage and gasped loudly, rolling on his side to cough on the resins in the asphalt. </p><p>He looked up, angling his elbow so that he could distance himself off the lumpy ground for a little bit. Earning himself a first-row ticket to Butcher swinging his prototypical iron rod at the Supe one too many times. Black Noir deterred the strike and kneed his opponent in the stomach. Forcing down a good round of blows down to the collapsing man's head. Butcher went down, crumbling at the ninja's feet; who drew out a knife swiftly.</p><p>NO. Hughie screamed in his mind. NoNoNoNoNoNo and NO! Butcher didn't move, didn't get out of the way, or come up with an evasive small talk that would end up in distracting the enemy and eventually ditching the insanely imminent bullet. Black Noir raised his knife, adjusting his martial arts compatible limbs for a killing blow.</p><p>"Butcher" He croaked the name and reached out to grasp the horrid scene unfolding before his eyes. </p><p>And that, right there and then was the first time he heard Black Noir making a sound. He coughed, as if out of the blue choked on his own saliva. Hughie crept towards Butcher, who kept blinking at the world's most mighty coughing incessantly in his fucking sock of a mask or whatever shit that was made of, doubling over, dropping his murder weapon heavily at Butcher's feet, who immediately kicked it out of the way. </p><p>Then the dark eyes found Hughie's struggling form on the ground.</p><p>"Hughie" Butcher gasped and used his palms to –though unsteadily- rise on his knees. Black Noir continued on gurgling, mirroring a few seconds ago when the roles were reversed and HE was the breath-taker instead.</p><p>"Hughie." Butcher's voice was impossibly soft, as he dragged himself to the younger man's side, pulling him close. To which the kid leaned onto unresisting. </p><p>"MM?" Hughie wheezed. </p><p>"Breathin'." Butcher dismissed the question as he hauled them both up, hands automatically reaching for the line of newly formed bruises littering the kid's neck.</p><p>"I'm alright." Hughie gulped. </p><p>"You did this?" it was MM's voice, showing up from behind the car-wreckage, all the while sending intimidating looks at the bystanders in the street who were murmuring under their breaths, video recorders on.</p><p>"I don'...I don't know." Hughie exclaimed honestly, while still latching onto Butcher, who was looking at him up close as if he'd seen a ghost. Which was a stretch, though –come to think of it- not so untrue whatsoever. He was feeling lightheaded already, swaying in Butcher's arms and being caught every time.</p><p>"Ahm...they're watching" He wheezed, looking dazedly over the horrified people staring at Black Noir being suffocated by the fucking emperor's new clothes.</p><p>"MM, MM, look at 'im. The lad's wheezing like shit. Ain't 'is throat swell shut or what?" a prying hand found its way underneath Hughie's jacket, pirouetting the area for a sign of the kid's stitches opening up a leaky faucet. He allowed Butcher's physical examination while breathing a litany of "fine"s in the older man's shoulder. Butcher sighed. All was well, for now. </p><p>"I don't think so." MM called. They turned towards him, who had knelt beside the writhing ninja and unveiled part of his mask where the dark fabric concealed the Supe's neck. </p><p>All over the dark skin, bruises had been blossomed in the shape of a hand. </p><p>"What the fuck, kid?" MM's aghast inquiry was barely more than a whisper.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think we all miss Starlight, right?;) what's she doing anyway?🤔<br/>So... did you like this one? Yes? No? 🥺👉👈</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Bargain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Annie was worried sick. Not knowing how Hughie was doing and not being on his side where he needed her most, made her feel nauseated to the very core; like a cotton ball of dripping pain squishing her heart to the side.<br/>

She tried to put up a strong façade, though. They couldn't afford any more trouble; HE couldn't afford any more trouble. So she contracted a smile on her slack, cried-her-eyes-out face and smudged as much normality as she could on her face with her personal package of L'Oreal toolkit.<br/>

Ashley informed her that there'd be an urgent meeting in the conference room. Some "Arab terrorists matter" as she called it and Annie sighed in relief. It was the usual stuff, or so she thought.<br/>

She was early to get there. Or was she? At the far end of the room, facing away from her, Storm-front stood in all her splendor, whispering to… Deep?<br/>

She frowned, and as if frowns have sound now, they turned towards her; Deep's face white as a piece of chalk, and Storm-Front… she was smiling sweetly –or at least as sweet as she could be- waving her to come closer.<br/>

"come here." She encouraged.<br/>

Annie took a few more tentative steps.<br/>

"What are you doing here?" She asked Deep; genuinely. Not with her usual flavor of poison wherever she talked to –or better yet, thought about- the Fish-boy. She demanded answers, because Deep wasn't even in the Seven anymore, and by the looks of it, not so inclined to be either.<br/>

"Ahm…" He started. Only to be interrupted by no one other than the leather-caped Supe.<br/>

"He and I had a talk earlier. I gotta say, this guy, has a lot of unresolved issues with you Sister, like… A LOT!" Deep gulped down a huge bezoar of shame, looking down. Oh fuck off! Annie thought.<br/>

"He told me, how you seduced and lured 'im into flashing for you and when you were done with your dirty little deeds, you framed him for an act of sexual assault; which was more the other way around if you will. So very naughty of you." She tsk-ed delightfully.<br/>

"WHAT?" Annie screamed, as much as her sore throat from all the crying allowed.<br/>

"I didn't…" Deep started, but quickly the words died out in his mouth as Storm-Front bore her gaze into his.<br/>

"People do all sort of crazy things to get a spotlight, right? Like, say… standing in front of a nation and shed alligator tears, coming up with a brand new rape story. Hashtag metoo, right?"<br/>

Annie was beyond furious now. She felt the blaze in her eyes starting to build-up.<br/>

"I don't really think going all yellow on me is a good idea, remember the last time?"<br/>

She did remember. And she hated herself for that.<br/>

"Besides… If you don't like my narrative, you can always go cry over your pet's dead body. It's not like anybody's forcing you or anything."<br/>

"He's not dead." She croaked. Fuck. That sounded a lot more pathetic than she aimed for.<br/>

"Oh he will be." Storm-Front reassured her, waving her glove in a way that was simultaneously nonchalant and intrigued. As if she was promising an imminent prize that'd come true, if only they waited for it patiently.<br/>

"What do you mean?" Annie could hear her voice littering with crystalline beads of sweaty, rancid urgency. "What did you do?" She dreaded her every articulated syllable.<br/>

Storm-Front beamed at her for a good few seconds before whipping out a remote control that she had somehow hidden under her –as she had remarked in ancient days, pocket-less- cape and target one of the big screens of the conference room with it. They all lit up at once, fixating on a wanted bounty. The price was too high for anyone to give it a second thought.<br/>
"Black Noir's already on the job." She shrugged. "looks like a whole nation wants to kill your dear pussy eater." She giggled and turned to Deep, who was standing there as furniture-like as he could.<br/>
"You want back in the Seven?" She somewhat ordered him a strained nod.<br/>
Annie wasn't listening. She was thrown back in time, to the pocket-less Supe costume joke; It didn't sound that much funny now. He hated herself for liking her back then.<br/>
And that, was around the time when she was struggling and failing to forgive Hughie for what he did, for keeping things –horrible things- from her.<br/>
It wasn't before she gets coached by Homelander to kill him that she weighed the concept of "having no choice". She believed that they always had a choice; free will and that sort of shit if you will. But now she knew. She was a bitch for treating Hughie the way she did. He had gone through a lot of shit and nevertheless he had tried to do the right thing. He had gone against giants, the world's most mighty corrupt assholes, and he hadn't chickened out. Because he had no other choice.<br/>
"What do you want?" Annie uttered, hoarsely; biting the inside of her cheek to block the tears of desperation.<br/>
Storm-Front's eyes lit up; amazed by how things were going her way smoothly.<br/>
"Here's what you do. You two film a video footage of what happened in this room. I mean, what really happened and Deep here [She put her hand on Kevin's shoulder, from which he cringed ever so slightly] will post it online as his testimony. He'll get back in the Seven and you will be canceled for the rest of your miserable life."<br/>
She smiled, adding to the suspense, and then as if she remembered as a side note:<br/>
"And I'll talk to Edgar to announce Translucent's recordings as deep fake." She added.<br/>
Annie looked over to Deep, as blunt as he was. He stole a glance.<br/>
"I mean, would you rather keep your reputation or your pet human?" Storm-Front's voice ringed in the vast room.<br/>
"Okay" Annie's voice was barely audible. She gulped down her sob. "But first tell Noir to stop."<br/>
Storm-Front smirked. "You know you don't really call the shots here sis. It's already too late for that anyway."<br/>
"What do you mean too late? Call him. Tell him to stop!" Annie practically shouted. Storm-Front deterred her request with not much as a disgusted grunt.<br/>
"All right. Do it and maybe I'll call 'im off before he gets his bounty. Or do you prefer to argue on your terms while your bae's time runs out. Don't get me wrong. I can leave you two to stare at each other stupidly as long as you need"<br/>
"No. No. I'll do it." Annie pleaded.<br/>
"Do what?" it came from the corridor down to the hall, and emerging from the unseen corners of Starlight's consciousness; There stood, Queen Maeve, in her glamorous suit, frowning at this most nonhomogeneous small group.<br/>
Storm-Front rolled her eyes. "It's between me and dear Starlight here. No need to worry." She faked a smile to prove her point.<br/>
"What's going on?" Maeve turned towards Starlight, who looked back at her pleadingly. "I... I can't… can't let that happ...".<br/>
"You're doing this or what?" Storm-Front asked impatiently.<br/>
"She's not doing shit." Maeve snapped at her, pulling Starlight towards herself by her elbow.<br/>
"What does the bitch have on you?" She asked gently.<br/>
Annie sobbed. "She sent Noir. There's a dead or alive bounty. Maeve, I can't."<br/>
Maeve shook her hard. "Listen to me. Whatever she wants you to do, is not gonna change anything. If Black Noir is already on the loose, there's nothing no-one could do. Trust me, all you end up with is going down too."<br/>
"But…" Annie began.<br/>
"She's fucking with you. Jesus, use your fucking brain for God's sake." Maeve chided and turned to the other two.<br/>
"Hey Deep." She called.<br/>
Deep jumped out of place.<br/>
"Get the fuck out of the tower." She ordered. Annie tried to protest, but Meave sent a deadly look at her that made her shut up.<br/>
Storm-Front answered instead. "Okay. Seems like our Princess grew fond of her ivory palace a little too much." She smirked. Weighing her words. "He really loved you, you know?" She mocked a sigh. "Such a fucking fool."<br/>
She marched out, Deep following suit lamely.<br/>
Annie seethed. "What did you do?"<br/>
"Saving your ass." Maeve replied nonchalantly. "Did you really think she would do ANYTHING for you?"<br/>
"I…I should… I should go." Annie lurched as if floating in quick silver-made fibers of a nightmare.<br/>
"Have you lost your mind? They'll come after you." Maeve reasoned.<br/>
"I can't just sit here…" Annie argued.<br/>
"That's exactly what you're going to do." She snapped, quickly finding her resolve. "Look, they've gone against Supes before, all right? They'll figure out something. You being there would only make it worse, for both of you." Maeve explained gently as she kept Starlight's squirming form in place, boring her bright eyes into hers.<br/>
Annie nodded obediently at last.<br/>
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
"Kid's down?" MM asked, receiving a tired nod from the Brit. Hughie had spent the last hour or so in the shared bathroom of their basement, washing off the grimes of that horrible place he was prisoned in with as fast of a pace as an old gramps, and Butcher for the life of him couldn't rant and rave over the room being occupied far too long for his bladder's liking. Better be slow than ending up headfirst in the porcelain bathtub, he reckoned.<br/>
The kid got out of the bathroom doubling over in pain, though, shivering like a leaf in his allegedly most comfortable nightclothes. Frenchie handed him over a packet just as he gasped for an imminent bout of acid spew. He retched more of his throat than actual vomit and didn't stop until the straw-colored exterior of the packet turned crimson with blood.<br/>
"All right lad. Let's get you to lie down." Butcher had encouraged gently, massaging the kid's protracted shoulder blades as he coughed and sputtered in the paper. Strawberry shampoo. Butcher huffed. They manhandled him over to the couch in front of the TV, since it was as farthest as he could get –his personal cubicle downstairs was out of the question- and in clear sight for them to keep an eye on him.<br/>
MM had already draped a –by his higher than anyone else's standards- neat sheet over the couch and Frenchie hooked him up to an IV loaded with morphine and a bunch of other stuff that Butcher had smuggled out of the hospital. Butcher felt for a temperature and found that the lad was burning up.<br/>
"Oh fuck me." He exclaimed and rolled his hand over so that the cooler part was on the kid's forehead, to which he reacted with a groan.<br/>
MM was resetting his splint with as much scrutiny as a botanical scientist working on the most delicate plant. However, it made Hughie whimper twice and press his face harder to Butcher's comforting palm that was cupping his cheek. Frenchie squirted another amp of morphine into the IV, fourth or fifth so far. He also stuck a thermometer in the kid's ear, swearing in French as the numbers read out 40 on the monitor.<br/>
"All right, it's all right son." Butcher encouraged, watching as the kid's complexion slowly became lax as he passed out. MM was done with the hand and let it sprawl loosely on his concert t-shirt, rising and falling by tides of the kid's shallow breaths.<br/>
Butcher never left his side. Just nested there on the dirty floor at Hughie's feet, looking at his tortured complexion with thick dense guilt glazing over his dark irises. Lamenting over his ever-recurring fuck ups. The kid wasn't built for any of this shit. He was only twenty-what for fuck's sake. He must have been out there living his life not knowing about any of this. He must have been safe, or rather as safe as he could be after his life being literally torn apart by superpowered cunts. Maybe he shouldn't have shown up at his work at all. Butcher had found in him a solid foothold in reality that saved him from plummeting into the abyss. What had Hughie found, though, other than suffering?<br/>
Changing the wet cloth on the lad's forehead every so often, He noticed the kid shivering a little too much. He put another one on his –bruised from nearly being asphyxiated- neck, from which he cringed and squirmed uncomfortably in his small makeshift bed.<br/>
"Sorry lad. You're burning up. Gotta have to force it down." He apologized gently and added more scrapes of tattered cotton to the water bowl by his side.<br/>
The fever broke at midnight, by that time Hughie had worked himself out and was fast asleep. MM woke up to his alarm and went on checking on the two men.<br/>
"Butcher…Go get some sleep." MM urged.<br/>
Butcher nodded, but didn't leave.<br/>
"What the fuck we' goin' to do now?" MM asked.<br/>
Butcher grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose.<br/>
"I don't know." Then decided. "We lay low. Wait for them to forget about the hunt."<br/>
"That could take years, man." MM exclaimed, frustrated. "He doesn't even know that 'is wanted by the fucking Vought." He brushed a hand over his face. "what about compound V?"<br/>
"What about it?" Butcher inquired as he draped a blanket over the boy, adjusting his pillow so that he was the most comfortable in his slumber.<br/>
"What's he turnin' into?" MM's voice was strained, as if the least eager to bring that up.<br/>
"I don't know, all right?" Butcher snapped, a little too loud for his liking, and almost immediately turned over to Hughie who was still out cold, nonreactive to their brawl. "I don't know." He hushed himself.<br/>
"Maybe Mallory could…" MM suggested.<br/>
"Could what? Keep 'im in a CIA black box till they fuckin' find out how to put 'im out?" Butcher spat poison at the other man.<br/>
"I ain't sayin' that and you know it" MM countered, calmly.<br/>
Butcher sighed. "Have you seen Mr. firefighter?" He asked.<br/>
"They're on a supply run." MM shrugged.<br/>
"all of 'em?" He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe the cunt could help us find out what the fuck is happening with the lad." As if on a cue, Hughie groaned and said something that none of them quite understood. Butcher grunted under his breath and leaned onto the couch, placing his head against its wooden arm.<br/>
"Butcher… the kid's out. Go get some rest. I'm here if he needs help." MM insisted.<br/>
"Nah, I'm good." Butcher checked the thermometer once more. "fuckin' hell, 38.5? I thought 'is fever broke a couple o' hours before" He cried, throwing the shit away.<br/>
"God knows what V could do to the body. I mean…" MM stated, concerned.<br/>
Butcher only bared his teeth. Pulling the blanket halfway off Hughie's supine form so that he wouldn't go into hyperthermia.<br/>
"It's my mess." He lamented.<br/>
MM's burst was instantaneous, setting the brit back on his heels. "eat my dick Butcher!" because, fuck William Butcher, he doesn't get to take all the blame in the world and hang it around his neck like a fucking wreath. "The kid looks up to you, he literally adores you. You couldn't shake 'im off no matter what."<br/>
Butcher rolled his eyes. "well, look where that got 'im?" He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. "Fuck." Not working.<br/>
"We'll find a way to fix this." MM promised, with as much sincerity as he could muster despite himself being indeed full of doubt. "It's not like we haven't been fugitives before." He shrugged.<br/>
"WE… not him, not alone."<br/>
"He WAS alone. When you left." MM reminded him, for which Butcher had no explanation or sarcastic remarks up in his sleeve.<br/>
"All I'm sayin' is, The kid's stronger than you give 'im credit for." Butcher snapped: "I know he is." Then sighed in resolution. "I know, I fucking swear to god I know. And it's so fuckin' much worse."<br/>
MM couldn't help nodding in agreement.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey there...<br/>I'm back, sort of;)<br/>I just wanted to say thank you for your kind reviews^__^ I appreciate each and every one of them&lt;3<br/>I'm trying to close this story for good:) so, we're kind of at the end of the rope now. there may be a few chapters for completeness sake.<br/>Maybe one day there'll be a sequel? or maybe not?:D<br/>anyway, you folks are the best and I'm really grateful for having you with me on this.<br/>As always, I'd like to know your thoughts:*<br/>Stay safe<br/>XOXO</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'll try to update new chapters as frequent as I can. you know what helps accelerating it? your comments:**</p></blockquote></div></div>
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